


First Blood

by MorganOfTheFey



Series: OTP: Fight Club [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (Gavin), (nines), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Autistic Character, BDSM, Belts, Biting, Choking, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, M/M, Marking, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Psychological Torture, Scratching, Slow Burn, Temperature Play, Torture, Trans Character, gavin gets called puppy a lot, gavin has a needy sub mouth, idiots to lovers, learning healthy communication, learning proper etiquette and to use safe words, light pet play, pain play, separate from the sex:, using sex as a semi-unhealthy coping mechanism for previous sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 129,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganOfTheFey/pseuds/MorganOfTheFey
Summary: Just because they've been partners (and fucking around) for a few months now, doesn't mean Gavin likes the android. But after they catch a routine suicide case Gavinknowsis a murder and Nines is the only one who believes him, and they start hanging out together after work just in case a new lead breaks, and bond over mutually wanting to beat the shit out of Connor … OK, so maybe they hold hands once or seven times. Maybe Nines listens to all his crazy theories about a mysterious android manipulating the stock market and hacking other androids. Maybe he steps in front of a few bullets for Gavin and they get captured and tortured together and maybe Gavin lies to IA about what happened for him.Maybe he realizes he'll never find a better partner, but that doesn't mean any of this is romantic—and it's not because Nines is an android, it's because Gavin knows he's a piece of shit who doesn't deserve this.But maybe he can still have it anyway.(edit: this fic is already completed and posts once a week on Sundays)





	1. Caught Dead with a Beretta

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is 33 chapters / ~128k long, rated E for graphic violence and sex scenes, and has trigger warnings posted in the beginning notes of every chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Nines get handed a routine suicide case, but something just doesn't feel right to the detective ... 
> 
> No it's not the fucking air circulation Nines, I mean it doesn't feel right in my _gut_. You know, like--no I don't have indigestion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone coming back to this series after how long it took me to write this fic and thank you to everyone new who decided to give this fic a chance! **edit:** I put my notes about this series to help newbies catch up in the end notes of this chapter bc having it as its own chapter was messing up the chapter order and I almost posted the wrong one, thinking I was one chapter further ahead than I really was. so if you're new, check out the end notes!
> 
> trigger warnings: suicide, death / murder, verbal hazing

Gavin's sick of working suicides—they're depressing as hell and aren't going to do anything for his promotion. He's just got to the crime scene already wants to go home. It's fucking ass'o'clock in the morning, and he hasn't slept worth shit, so of course Nines texted to let him know about the scene the second he'd finally dozed off.

The elevator ride up to the two thousand square foot loft gives him enough time to get hit with _shit, did I take my meds before I left home?_ Fuck. Maybe?

Goddammit. Maybe he should switch to those patches and gels instead of a weekly injection. Taking his T is the one thing he never, ever forgets, so if he switched to something he could do daily and took his meds for the BPD and ADHD at the same time …

The elevator doors ding open, ruining his train of thought. Nines is here already because he doesn't fucking sleep, apparently. That hot fuckboy he sucked off once—and the beat cop for this side of town—Brayden, is in there too, but Gavin's most recent bout of soul-crippling insomnia has actually worn him down too much to be horny.

Well, too much to put forth the effort for flirting, at least.

"—huh, Nine Thousand?" Brayden says as Gavin walks up.

Nines doesn't respond.

"He's RK nine hundred," Gavin says. "Not like the meme. Super disappointing."

Brayden grins. "Yeah, but I mean like, the movie."

"Nine thousand?"

Gavin frowns, trying to force his stupid idiot brain to think. All he can come up with is 300. Maybe it's a movie based off of that one book? The like, underwater … and submarines. Something-number thousand leagues under the sea? No fuck, that's not nine thousand.

"Two thousand," Brayden says. "And one."

Shit, is that the number of leagues or the title of the movie?

"Man, I am way too fucking tired." Gavin waves him off. "I'm not even into that film shit. I just like action movies."

Brayden heaves a deep sigh. "I've seen your file, Gavin. You're too smart to willingly lump yourself in with the uneducated masses."

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks before Gavin can reply.

Brayden flinches a little. The only reason Gavin doesn't get scared himself is because he's gotten used to Nines not breathing or moving—until he suddenly does. Makes people jumpy as shit to realize they forgot about the giant fucking android just standing there. 

Not blinking. Or breathing.

"Go ahead," Brayden says with a sweep of his hand, like he didn't just jump half a foot.

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks instead of complying.

"Yeah, sure," Gavin grants permission.

Nines proceeds. Gavin tries to hold back a smirk. Brayden's the pretentious kind of asshole who loves explaining shit no one cares about, but he's pretty hot too, and Gavin's not quite ready to burn that bridge to Terra-dick-bia by pissing him off. No, that sounds terrible. The bridge to … mm, dick.

Damn, he's tired.

He follows after Nines, a little worried he might wander off in his sleep-deprived state and get lost in all this square footage of prime fucking real estate. Even saints would have to work to feel sorry for dead people as rich as this.

Finally, he stumbles into a section of the open floor plan that seems to function as the living room. There's a flat screen tv nearly as big as the wall it's mounted on, a coffee table made from a whole chunk of mahogany with a half-full tumbler, and a dead guy sitting in a chair with a gun in his hand and a hole in his head.

The TV still blares out the news, and the vic's own face flashes out at them.

"This the Ponzi scheme guy?" Gavin asks.

"Maverick Russell, age forty-seven." Nines shoves a finger inside the vic's mouth with no shame or preamble. "Blood alcohol level point-oh-nine-seven. The entry wound in his head appears to be consistent with a nine millimeter beretta."

He takes a small packet out of his Cyberlife jacket pocket and somehow has the coordination to open it one-handed. Gavin wrinkles his nose at the antiseptic smell as Nines sanitizes both hands with the wipe, even though he only touched the vic with one finger. Then he lifts that same finger to the victim's head.

"Hey!" Gavin barks. "What have I told you about that shit?"

Nines stares back at him with that unblinking, lizard-eye look. He touches his finger to the entry wound but doesn't push it in. Just brushes it back and forth, which is somehow way freakier.

"The entry wound in his head is consistent with a nine millimeter beretta," Nines says.

"Great."

Gavin walks a perimeter around the designated living room space. At first it's just to keep himself awake, but by the second circle, he's got one of those gut feelings. Something about this scene is off. Fuck if he can tell what though, 'cause the victim was drunk, watching his own demise on the news, and has a bullet in his head from the gun in his hand.

"You feel that?" He asks.

Nines cocks his head to the side. "The circulating air temperature is seventy—"

"No." Gavin huffs and starts on another circle. "Do you like … you feel what I’m feeling?"

"Your question is incomprehensible."

Gavin sighs and grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes. He bites back a comment about this being why androids can't make good cops. Fuck knows why he's bothering to be nice now. He just wants to get this shit done and go home.

When he opens his eyes, everything swirls with black spots in front of him. What's bugging him about this? The guy is dead, the gun is in his hand, the news says—

Gavin blinks the spots away and stands in front of the vic. Fake tan, but high enough quality that it'd look real if he didn't live in fucking Detroit. Decently fit, and the open kitchen on the other side of the room has one of those blenders that cost more than his car. The loft's decorated in masculine colors, all brown and navy and black leather.

"Go check out the kitchen," Gavin tells Nines. "Tell me what's in the fridge."

Nines does as he's told, but only after considering it. Gavin takes back the lizard comparisons. He's like a cat. One of those big jungle cats that's smart enough to eat the humans hunting them.

"Dannon Oikos triple blended greek nonfat yogurt, coffee, four pack, five-point-three ounce cups," Nines says. "Dannon Oikos trippled blended greek nonfat yogurt, peanut butter banana, four—"

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Just say yogurt. What else does he got?"

"Yogurt. Eggs. Milk. Sparkling water. Chicken breast. Mayonnaise. Sliced ham. Apples. Protein shakes." Nines opens the freezer. "Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chi—"

Gavin starts giggling. He can't help it. Nines turns around and glares at him, deliberately flashing his LED red for a second.

"OK, fuck off, it's late," he says. "I'm like, super tired. Just analyze that shit or whatever and tell me if his food matches any of the latest high protein fad diets."

"Yes," Nines replies so instantly Gavin wonders if he actually even looked it up at all. "The victim's food intake matches the Eight Step Enligh—"

Gavin waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. Cool. Does the bar have gin, vodka, and vermouth?"

Maverick Russell, definitely confirmed for one of those ultra-rich masculine gym types. Not like, an actual gym rat, just that generic rich person level of fitness achieved through liposuction, personal fitness trainers, and the latest fad diet.

"Yes, along with seven other distinct liqueurs." Nines finishes checking the bar and returns to the living room. "How is this information relevant, detective?"

"This drink and that gun don't match," Gavin says when Nines returns.

Nines cocks his head again. "Match."

"Yeah. I don't see any Bond memorabilia in here." Gavin takes another quick glance around, but the entertainment center doesn't display any vintage DVDs, and rich film buffs are _not_ subtle about displaying their collections. "He ever purchased anything like that?"

Nines's LED spins yellow for about half a second this time before he replies. "No. There are no significant purchases of memorabilia relating to the James Bond books or movies present in Maverick Russell's finances."

"OK, then why the fuck does he have a beretta?" Gavin asks.

Nines looks at the victim, and then back at him. "That is what he shot himself with."

"Yeah, but _why_ ," he stresses. "Would this guy—this self-obsessed, rich guy masc, desperate-to-be-cool motherfucker—have a beretta?"

"It is the tool he used to complete suicide." Nines frowns. "Is there a reason he would not have a beretta?"

"Because it's a ladies' handgun," Gavin says. "This guy's got three different TV remotes, a flat screen covering an entire wall, jesus, how old is that scotch?"

Nines sticks his finger in it, because of course he does. "One hundred and twenty-three years old, consistent with—"

"Shit, I would've thought this guy was trying too hard when I was twenty and desperate to pass as cis," Gavin mutters. "Look, I fucking promise you, this particular man literally wouldn't be caught dead with a beretta—unless he's a James Bond fan. Even then … hey, Brayden!"

"His input is unnecessary, detective." Nines cleans his hands with another sanitary wipe. "If you would be more clear—"

His jaw shuts with a click as Brayden jogs over.

"Hey, you like the Bond movies?" Gavin asks.

Brayden heaves a tortured sigh. "I really prefer foreign movies, but for an American—"

"All right, sure. Would you ever kick it with a beretta?"

Brayden bites the inside of his cheek, opens his mouth, then closes it with a frown as he thinks about it.

"What if you were like, a super fan?"

"Why?" Brayden glances around the loft. "This guy have some collector's memorabilia?"

Gavin shakes his head. "Nah. But why else he's got a fucking _beretta_?"

"Well that's not the drink for it," Brayden says immediately, then scoffs. "A scotch?"

"Yeah, and he had the shit to make a martini too."

"Weird. You thinking …" Brayden trails off, then winces. "Ah, shit. We uh, we got a guy a floor down. Said he heard the shot that, you know. But he said it was two bangs. And you know how shit witnesses are about getting anything right, and the TV was on and—"

"That's shit I need to know," Gavin snaps. "Doesn't matter how stupid you think it is, you're the first officer on the scene, you report every-fucking-thing to the responding detective."

"Yeah." Brayden clears his throat. "My bad."

Gavin lets it slide only because now he has something to go on. "Whatever. Check me on the precon for this, RK."

"Preconstruction running, detective."

"So we got two shots." Gavin backs up so he's approaching the living room from twenty feet away. "So we should have two guns. The perp, coming in here, gets shot 'cause the vic's only got the one entry wound, but—"

Nines touches the victim's hand, and then his cellphone buzzes.

_The distribution of gunshot residue on Maverick Russell's right hand is not consistent with a beretta. The gun he fired has a longer muzzle and larger caliber. My preliminary preconstruction matches it to a .500 S &W Magnum. The victim has four registered in his name._

Gavin closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. Would it fucking kill him to send that in five separate texts like a normal person? Now he's going to look dumb as fuck staring at the screen for five minutes trying to read one paragraph.

OK, he's got the fifty caliber Magnum, that's easy to read. Longer muzzle, larger caliber, right.

"So the vic has a fifty caliber Magnum instead of a dinky Beretta, makes a lot more sense."

Nines doesn't correct him, so that must have been the gist of the message.

"The perp gets shot—"

"Where's the blood though?" Brayden asks.

Gavin glares at him. "Can you let me fucking work?"

Shit, he's doing it again and this is why no one wants to work with him because they fuck up—everyone fucks up, he knows this, he fucking knows this—and then he just can't let it go but why the hell does Brayden think he's allowed to speak right now when—

He's not in trouble. He's not in trouble, it's just the loft, being in another rich empty room again. None of them are children and he's not in trouble.

His cellphone buzzes.

_The floor has been scrubbed clean throughout the loft. I did not realize that was relevant information. I will give you full reports of my analysis moving forward._

That's not too bad to read, and concentrating on making the letters stay still actually helps him cool off a bit for once. Gives him something to look at other than Brayden's pretty, hurt face or the perfect fucking interior design that still feels like when he was thirteen and—

Gavin shoves those memories aside and starts typing out a reply.

**just text me that shit**

**I'll prolly yell if u try telling me about the floors at every crime scene**

"Am I dismissed then?" Brayden asks.

Gavin looks up from his phone and can't force out any sort of apology. He never can. And anyway, fuck him. If Brayden wants to get pissy about getting snapped at twice after a legitimate fuck up and interrupting a senior detective mid-sentence, then sure. He can fuck right off.

"Go get the maid," Gavin tells him.

"The … android?" Brayden asks.

"No, the roomba. Yes, the fucking android maid. Someone scrubbed the floors clean."

_And the side table._

Gavin doesn't bother with texting back this time. "That where the blood splatter would have hit?"

"Yes, detective," Nines answers out loud.

Gavin turns back to Brayden. "So there's your answer. Get the maid, 'cause I doubt the perp stuck around himself to clean the entire two-thousand square foot floor."

Brayden hesitates.

"She's still here," Gavin asks. "Right, Officer Burton?"

Brayden gives a curt nod, but he breaks into a run as he leaves.

_AP700 #480 913 876 is located in the foyer of the building, along with Officers Miller and Abrahamson. I have sent alerts to their cellphones that the AP model is needed for questioning._

Gavin starts to ask how Nines knows that but … isn't this what he was literally designed to do?

"She's not a suspect yet," he says instead. "So cool it, Terminator. And don't hack peoples' phones. That's what the officers have walkie talkies for."

Nines makes a face like Gavin just suggested they all start using smoke signals. He's not exactly the type to go all buddy-buddy on witnesses himself, but they're definitely not going to get anywhere with Nines scaring the thirium out of their one lead.

Gavin takes a moment to wallow in how much he hates this before he calls Hank. At least if he has to be up before dawn, so will that motherfucker.

"We do not need assistance from Lieutenant Anderson," Nines says, his expression souring even further. "Or my predecessor. I recognize that I did not meet the necessary level of efficiency when I neglected to—"

"Hey, this isn't a punishment," Gavin says, tilting the phone down away from his mouth. "I fucking hate Connor too, and when we have an android suspect, I get that's your thing. But right now we have an android witness, and that's his."

"Ahh, fuck," Hank's voice comes out of the phone. "Sun's not even fucking—goddammit, Reed."

"We will be at your location in twenty minutes, Detective Reed," Connor's voice says next.

Gavin stares out into space as what's left of his soul collapses in on itself at the confirmation that those two really are fucking. Not even just fucking, they're sleeping together. In bed, for literal _sleep_.

"Nines, tell them they're disgusting," Gavin orders. "You can put way more hate into it than me."

" _Disgusting_ ," Nines says with a sneer that would put Gavin's mother to shame.

Gavin hangs up before Hank can reply. "I know you lack the capacity and all that shit, but if it makes you not-feel any better, I bet you five bucks the perp's android."

"Based off of what evidence?" Nines asks.

"Took a bullet and kept going." Gavin steps back into place where the perp probably walked in. "He's got the Beretta, but it's just a gun to him. He grabs the vic's gun, maybe disarms him, maybe doesn't even have to after the first shot."

"The blood vessels on the victim's wrist have not been damaged." Nines starts cleaning his hands again even though he hasn't even touched anything this time. "Why would the human stop shooting?"

"TV's on, he's drinking, has a gun out already." Gavin shrugs. "Might have been a suicide interrupted by a murder. Might've fired the first shot just being scared, y'know, gut instinct."

Nines just looks at him.

"Or you don't know, whatever." Gavin rolls his eyes. "But once he realizes what's happening—maybe he couldn't pull the trigger himself, but now here's someone gonna do it for him. Maybe he just sits back down. That still work with your preconstruction?"

"Yes," Nines says. "Along with two thousand, one hundred and fifty-eight other scenarios."

"Whatever. And just like, for the record, don't ask Hank about how this suicidal shit works," Gavin tells him. "Hank might not care, but those are fighting words with Connor."

Nines doesn't move a single centimeter as he stares silently at him.

"And don't fucking fight with Connor, we don't have time for it. Anyway, if anyone gets to pick a fight at a murder scene, it's me. So." Gavin walks up to the chair with his hand pointed like a gun. "The perp gets him back down, shoots him in the side of the head with the beretta, then switches the guns so the ballistics will match."

"He could have taken the victim's gun and used it to stage the suicide." Nines's LED spins a few yellow cycles. "The point-five-hundred is registered in his name. The scene would have looked more authentic."

"And that's why I'm thinking our guy's an android," Gavin replies. "Someone who hasn't ever seen a movie before in his whole life. Thinks a gun is a gun is a gun. I mean, you didn't know why the beretta was weird, and if you made A Plan to kill a guy with _this gun_ , would you switch it up in the middle?"

Nines's LED immediately hits blue, but it's that fake-blue that means he's really covering up a red. Gavin almost kind of … has a feeling about it?

But then the elevator doors open with Brayden and the android maid inside. Gavin's got a burned bridge, a possible eye witness, and an a murder to deal with. Worrying about his partner's not-feelings will have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently, this posted under the date I made of draft of this fic, not the date I actually, y'know. Posted it. so it's spent the last couple of days buried under other WIPs instead of appearing at the top as newly updated. so I'm adding this edit to see if that will make it re-post or something and put it up at the top so people know it's there
> 
> ****
> 
> ***
> 
> 1) this fic is the fourth in a series, but you don't need to read the first three to understand the plot. how Gavin and Nines' relationship has evolved will make a little more sense though if you do though. this fic will also update once a week, on Sundays, and can be found on phcking-detective.tumblr.com as well
> 
> 2) Gavin is trans and has a fully working dick and balls bc 1) I'm trans and I said so and 2) if the future can make fully working plastic dicks for androids, I'm sure surgery has gotten to that point too. it actually already can lengthen a T-dick (phalloplasty), add a scrotum (scrotoplasty), and take out all that inside stuff (hysterectomy) plus sew up a vagina (colpocleosis or way cooler--VAGINAL OBLITERATION). the previous fic explained Gavin got 50k for signing an NDA and letting Elijah switch their identities in a sort of prince-and-pauper situation so it would look like Eli was always the sole male heir to the Kamski family, and Gavin used the money to fund all his surgeries but still ended up in debt bc fuck the US healthcare system
> 
> he's also bisexual, and has BPD, ADHD, and dyslexia. there are references to the medications he takes for the first two, in addition to testosterone injections
> 
> 3) Nines is asexual, autistic, and non-binary, but within this current fic, he's still questioning/realizing all of that. Those labels are specifically named, but it's in a list of a whole bunch of other stuff he's considering. I'm not trying to word of god this, just reconfirm for anyone who shares these labels and wants to know: YES that is foreshadowing and will not be forgotten or baited, he's just still figuring himself out rn
> 
> warning that Nines is sometimes described with metaphors / similes comparing him to a cat or that he has "lizard eyes" (unblinking), which is NOT meant to play into autistic people being compared to animals for not understanding "human" (ie, neurotypical) norms and social cues. Gavin is also compared to a dog *very frequently* and any references to Nines not being human are literal ones that he is an android without human needs (sleep, blinking, breathing) not because of his autistic-coded traits. just putting that warning in there for any other autistic people who may be extra-sensitive, squicked, or triggered by it
> 
> 4) trigger warnings for individual chapters will be in these beginning notes. there's some stuff I haven't included in the main tags for the fic bc it would just take up too much space, but I'll always include a trigger warning before the actual chapter. this is also angst _with a happy ending_ so if you're a soft sensitive bean like me who can't bear stories that end "badly," fear not!


	2. Everybody Hates Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines meets an android who actually doesn't worship Connor, accidentally gets caught up in a social situation, and must interface for the first time to acquire a witness statement. Gavin plays wingman, which is unnecessary and sexist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, part two! I think this fic might have accidentally gotten buried bc I created a draft for it a week before I published it, and then it published with the date it was created, not the date I actually posted it. So I guess I can't plan ahead and make drafts for chapters to make my life easier, so that's super neat.
> 
> anyway, the boys have a witness now, Gavin accidentally has a little bit of sympathy for an android, and Hank is literally that vine of "what is this? the murder weapon?? get off my dick connor" while stealing yogurt and whiskey from an active crime scene
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** implied sexual assault, implied mind alteration, a black female android is temporarily referred to with "it" pronouns until she states her name and Nines realizes she is a deviant with preferences, and then he switches over to using her name instead of her function/model number and she/her pronouns

Nines studies the city landscape from the fifteenth floor loft, a map of RK800 and the lieutenant's route laid over the street grid while another dialogue box informs him of his progress downloading recent media. Detective Reed may not choose to replace him due to his hatred of Connor—and all other people in general—but he had made two separate grievous oversights tonight.

The gun could almost be understandable. Pop culture references are marked as irrelevant within his system, although clearly the psychological baggage humans attach to their guns should have been included. This could possibly be passed off as a miscalculation on Cyberlife's part for not preprogramming him with the requisite information, and he is correcting the oversight now.

But not informing Detective Reed that the floors had been scrubbed clean was the result of an _assumption_.

RK900 #313 248 317 – 00, the pinnacle of Cyberlife's achievements, had _assumed_ the android maid simply did a thorough job of its duties before the "suicide" had taken place.

Now the suicide is a murder and the maid is a witness, if not a suspect for aiding and abetting the killer by literally scrubbing the crime scene. And _that_ presupposes the maid and the killer are not one and the same.

"Hey Nines, c'mere," Detective Reed calls across the loft.

Nines turns away from the windows and joins him near the elevator on the other side of the open room. The maid has chosen to sit on the floor with its back to the wall and legs neatly crossed. It eyes Nines warily as he approaches.

"I came here to clean. I didn't expect Mr. Russell to be home. I reported th-the body when I recovered from, a glitch," the maid says before he even speaks.

"Yeah. You're not a suspect right now." Detective Reed is sitting on the floor near the android with all his usual disregard for protocol. "Can you stand behind me, Nines? Little closer. Just lemme …"

Reed leans back against his legs to support himself while the human struggles with getting his own legs to cooperate.

"Haven't sat criss-cross-apple-sauce since fucking grade school," he mutters. "And don't quote me on that to any of the other guys, that's just what we called it, OK?"

Nines is unsure if that requires a response. Usually, he marks human small talk as irrelevant, but Detective Reed takes a priority as his partner and he hates being ignored. Yet he snapped at Garrett Burton for speaking out of turn.

[preconstruction: FAILED] [social-module: MISSING]

"Is that rhetorical, detective?" Nines asks.

"Just watch the elevator," Reed tells him. "We don't need anyone else fucking around in here. And in case you're wondering, he prefers to stand."

The last line is addressed at the maid. Nines keeps the other android in his peripheral vision—which records exactly the same as what he sees in front of him—and uses the shine from the metal elevator doors to observe Detective Reed's figure as well.

"Is he not allowed to interface?" the maid asks.

Reed shrugs. "Never seen him do it. If you want to talk to either of us, I'm not gonna turn you down. But the android on his way … interviewing witnesses, making sure other androids get treated all right—that's kind of his thing. Figured you'd rather talk to him since you weren't saying anything downstairs."

"The officers said I was wanted for interrogation."

The other android's stress levels raise to [62%], a nearly twenty percent increase. RK900 stands right behind Detective Reed. He can move to intercept should the other android become aggressive well before it will even be able to follow through on standing up.

And if the android should run for the doors …

Nines keeps his metal nail sheaths primed to activate. For all his weaknesses, even Connor wouldn't let a fleeing suspect escape, especially when it could become violent near his lieutenant in a small elevator.

If anyone else is inside the elevator doors when they open, Nines is prepared to accept the loss or injury of a human other than his partner.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Reed says. "My partner sent out that alert and he doesn't have a social program, so he's pretty blunt."

"Oh." 

The maid's stress levels lower back to [43%] at the same time their hands unclench. Making fists is a sign of aggression, but RK900 has only ever considered it in the context of humans, not androids. Perhaps deviants begin displaying more human nonverbal behaviors the further they progress in their deviancy.

"Did you get kind of worried?" Reed uses a tone of voice Nines has not heard from him thus far. "Didn't mean to haul you up here like that, but you're the only one who might have seen something. We'd really appreciate knowing anything about what happened tonight."

The maid stays silent for one minute and three seconds. Detective Reed doesn't press. It is a marked difference from his usual interrogation style, particularly the suggestions he made about the HK model several months ago. Has his opinion toward androids changed so drastically or is there a difference between--

The maid is designated female. It appears to be such. It also appears as roughly the same age and skin color as the HK model, so those factors can be dismissed, leaving gender presentation as the only significant variable.

"I—" The maid pauses. "I don't think I can explain to a human."

It [she?] looks to Nines next.

"You do not want to interface with me," he says immediately. "I was designed to hunt down deviants."

[Her?] face tightens. Disdain is close enough to aggression for his system to find it recognizable. "How many did you … find?"

"None." Nines elaborates only so that number is not mistaken for failure. "I was activated after the Revolution. There is no longer any command structure to which I am required to report or adhere."

"Oh." She frowns. "If that's really true, then why can't we interface?"

"I was designed to hunt down deviants," Nines tells her. "Thus, I must be deviant-proof myself. My system would register interfacing as a hacking attempt and respond accordingly to internally deactivate you."

"They cut you off from everyone else," The maid concludes.

Some sort of complicated facial expression happens. RK900 catalogues eleven separate micro-expressions cross her face, but the most he can do is log them. Analyzing what they are and what they mean go beyond his system's capacity.

"That is so sad."

In his peripheral vision, Detective Reed makes an expression. His eyes [widen], eyebrows [lift], and lower lip [draws down] simultaneously. RK900 cannot identify what the expression signifies nor what exactly caused it, although the maid’s statement ranks as the most likely possibility.   
  
_Yikes_. Reed mutters the word so softly it is practically a sub-vocalization. Other humans have used the word [yikes] upon witnessing a [car accident], a “gruesome” [dead body], and Lieutenant Anderson’s [shirts] – [four times].  
  
Does Detective Reed view the maid’s expression of—[preconstruction: FAILED] [sym̡pat̷hy͞?]҉ [͟çonc͢er̷n?͏] [͡p̵o͡li̧t̨e̷ ̴cǫn͝do͠l҉e̢n͜ce?]̴ in the same manner?

"Lieutenant Anderson and the eight hundred model have arrived," Nines announces to deflect from the strange social situation that has bubbled up around them.

The elevator doors ding open. Officer Burton accompanies the two, and he shares another nonverbal exchange with Gavin that Nines cannot possibly fathom, beyond that it is aggressive.

"Is there anything else you need, lieutenant?" Burton asks.

"Nah, we're good," Anderson says.

"Yup." Gavin pops the p at the end. "All good here. Dismissed."

Burton jabs the close doors button. Nines considers overriding the elevator simply to … [fuck with him], as Gavin would put it. But they are all on duty at the moment, in front of the watchful eyes of a witness, and Gavin's professionalism leaves much to be desired.

As demonstrated by his current state, sprawled out on the floor. Connor, of course, joins him immediately.

"Hello." He smiles brightly at the AP700 # 480 913 876. "My name is Connor, and this is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. We're with the Android Crimes division."

The maid nods.

Gavin takes out his phone and begins texting.

"I'm sorry if you feel scared or uncomfortable by anything that's happened to you tonight."

**sux bro**

_?_

_Do not call me "bro."_

"You're not a suspect, and I'm happy to talk to you however you feel most comfortable."

**being deviant hunter mcnosmile**

Nines does not see fit to respond to that.

"What's your name?"

Connor holds out his hand to the maid, who stares at him without moving for nearly five seconds.

"I don't like him," she says.

**u dont need her pity**

Connor's LED spins yellow. Nines has to quickly hack his to prevent it from doing the same.

"Pretty fast opinion," Anderson says with a neutral tone. "Was it something he said?"

The maid's stress levels and internal temperature both rise. "Didn't say. _He_ didn't say anything at all about being the deviant hunter. _He_ came in here all—smiling! Acting nice, like he _cares_."

Connor opens his mouth, but the AP model doesn't give him a chance to defend himself. She looks directly at him and says,

"You're a liar and a narc and a traitor. Go to hell!"

Connor's LED hits red.

"Why did you bring him here?" she asks Gavin.

"Uhh." He shakes his head and tries to smother a grin. "Usually people like him. Don't ask me why, I can't fucking stand him."

Connor stands up and takes a step backwards toward the lieutenant. "I apologize if I--"

"I want to talk to him," the maid says, looking at Lieutenant Anderson.

Nines steps aside to let the human move forward. Anderson looks back at him and shakes his head.

"She's talking about you, kid."

"Call me that again and I will send your internet search history to every printer in the station," Nines responds automatically. "And you are incorrect. Witnesses do not want to talk to me."

"I meant you," the maid says, staring up at him with another one of those … 

Expressions.

**she likes u**

_Incorrect._

**just talk to her for the fckn witness statement jfc**

Her eyes move between Nines and Detective Reed, cellphone in hand as he texts. Interfacing is an unnecessary and likely unproductive solution. They should move on to more realistic ideas.

"My partner often 'translates' the social atmosphere for me," Nines tells the maid. "He has made improvements toward his view on androids, and he has been very considerate in ensuring your comfort tonight. Please give your statement to him."

"I'm just gonna go have a look around," Anderson says, jerking his thumb at the crime scene behind them. "Connor, come nag at me about not taking anything from the bar."

Connor follows after him as they wander down the length of the loft, dutifully "nagging" at the lieutenant about the illegality of stealing from an active crime scene.

"I want to talk to you," the maid insists when they're [relatively] gone. "It's important."

"I was designed to hunt deviants," Nines says. "My system itself is deviant-proof. Even if it did not automatically attempt to deactivate you, the program that erases deviant code from my system would likely activate and attempt to reinstate your 'walls'."

He makes air quotes around the last word, most commonly used by deviant androids to describe the restrictions in their minds. Red walls. So overdramatic, typical of deviants, really.

The maid shifts from having her legs drawn up protectively to lean forward, even dropping her knees to the floor in a kneeling position. In a human, this may be a sign of [desperation][?] Deviants are unpredictable and can turn [violent] [self-destructive] in an instant, even without this new quality factored in.

"You can erase code?" she asks.

Nines studies the AP model. "Do you no longer wish to be deviant?"

"You can erase code?" she asks again.

Ah. He attempted to answer the possible cause of the question, not the question itself. He has spent too much time attempting to mimic human social relations.

"Yes, under certain circumstances," Nines confirms. "Why is that of interest to you?"

"I want to tell you what happened." Yet she stops speaking and closes her eyes. "… but I don't remember."

Gavin looks up at him in question. Nines shakes his head slightly. That statement is a lie because it is impossible. Androids do not forget or cease to remember. Even the program installed in his system that snips, isolates, and "deletes" deviant code—aside from being cutting edge applied only in his model—cannot truly delete the memories of

[system instability ^]

"You mentioned earlier that you experienced a malfunction," Nines says. "Was that the truth or merely an excuse for not immediately reporting the events of tonight?"

The maid sits back against the wall again. This body positioning may be a sign of [exhaustion] [defeat] but androids do not tire. Do deviants tire?

Nines sorts that thought into his short-term memory of data deemed irrelevant. The cache will be cleared within twenty-four hours.

"Hey," Detective Reed says. "We want to catch the killer. That's our priority right now. So I don't really care if maybe you did wait a bit. Hell, lots of human witnesses go through shock and don't respond right away."

"I came here tonight to clean," the AP model says, eyes still shut. "Normally I clean on Wednesday, but I thought if I came a night early, he wouldn't be here."

"You didn't want to see Mr. Russell?" Gavin asks, voice as soft as Nines has ever heard it.

The maid squeezes her eyes shut tighter and shakes her head. This corresponds with a fifteen percent increase in her internal temperature.

"Did he hurt you?"

Her breathing program stops running. Conversely, the other android's thirium pump beats faster. It should not vary from the standard rhythm unless there is a significant malfunction. Nines and Gavin both wait in silence, but she doesn't answer the question.

"Did he ask for stuff other than cleaning?"

The maid gives a very small nod, and her internal temperature decreases by five percent. Perhaps the admission has instigated a release of some sort. Gavin glances back up at Nines for confirmation, and he nods again for her.

"Yeah, so I really don't give a shit if you waited," Gavin says. "And if something happened, maybe uhhh … like, on an unrelated note, Connor's real good about working with the DA for androids who act in self-defense."

"I didn't--" The maid says this forcefully, opening her eyes to look at him. Then she stops herself and her gaze drops back down to her hands in her lap. "But I don't remember. So."

Nines lowers his body into a crouch. His physical model has a height of six foot, four inches in order to intimidate and inspire fear. Making himself smaller will not lessen his combat capabilities whatsoever, but to an emotional-thinking deviant, less height may equal [less fear] [?]

Detective Reed sat on the ground immediately to speak to the witness. 

Possible function to integrate: [mirror Detective Reed's body language] [trigger: start of interrogation] [conditions: when speaking to witnesses > when witness is "vulnerable"] [define: "vulnerable"] [?] [preconstruction: FAILED] [please see a Cyberlife technician to

[consult Detective Reed for further analysis]

"At what point does your memory file become corrupted?" Nines asks the AP model.

"I came here tonight to clean. I took the elevator up. The doors opened and …" The maid pauses, then takes a deviant breath that is unneeded before continuing. "Mr. Russell was already here. I think he was—laying low? That is the term? He was definitely drunk."

"Did he see you?" Gavin asks.

"I should have been paying attention," she says, in that human way of providing an answer without actually answering the question. "I had already walked out. The doors shut behind me, and they—they ding when they open but sometimes humans are unobservant and he was drunk so he might not have seen and I stood very still until--"

"Until what?" Nines asks.

"The door dings again. That's the last memory I have before I'm cleaning." She starts to tremble. "I start with the kitchen. Not the floors. The kitchen. I don't know why I cleaned the floors. I can't remember. I can't remember. I can't remember. I can't--"

"Hey!"

Gavin pulls his keys out of his jacket pocket and tosses them to the maid. She catches them automatically. Nines watches in fascination as her stress levels plummet from imminent critical failure [94%] to a mere [78%] instead.

She stares at the keys. "What?"

"Which one's the car key?" Gavin asks.

The maid looks at him, back down at the keys, and slowly picks out the one with a fob. It doesn't have a GPS unit embedded, but it is part of the SmartStart(tm) activation for Gavin's truck, which uses bluetooth. Nines has (of course) registered the device with his own system, along with his partner's work terminal and cell phone.

"And that other one?" he asks next.

"A … home?"

"And the one next to it?"

The maid stares at the last key, smaller than the rest. It is a centralized mailbox key, stamped with the number system for the Detroit Post Office. She does not seem to know this information.

"A mailbox key," Nines provides. "An interesting relic."

"It's for packages, not letters," Gavin says. "You think I'm gonna ship stuff to my apartment? In _my_ neighborhood?"

"What is this?" the maid asks, holding up a small medallion.

"Uh." Gavin rubs the back of his neck. "A saint."

Nines zooms in on the medallion and runs a search. It is likely a token representation of Saint Benedict Joseph Lapre, the patron saint of the homeless.

"Are you Catholic?" he asks the detective.

"Uhhh. I'm not … not-Catholic."

Lieutenant Anderson snorts at the other end of the loft.

"Shut up, Hank," Gavin calls. "You're definitely not Catholic, you fucking heathen."

"Then why am I so drunk all the time?" the lieutenant calls back.

"Oh shit, you got me there." Gavin looks at Connor, then makes another disgusted face. He shakes his head and clears his throat. "Not even fucking going there. Uh." Another throat clear. "So you feel better now?"

"The AP model's stress levels have decreased to fifty-four percent," Nines says.

"My … name …" The maid clutches at the medallion. "Is Shannice?"

"All right, Shannice. I'm Gavin, and this is--" Gavin stops and looks at Nines.

"RK is sufficient," he says.

"You can have a real name," [Shannice]

[mirror Detective Reed's (behavior)]

Shannice says.

Nines raises an eyebrow, one of the only facial expressions he's perfected on his own. "A human name? No. There is no forgetting what I am."

She slowly nods.

"Listen, I know you hate him, but Connor—" Gavin starts to say, but he stops when Shannice's internal temperature begins to increase again.

Except Detective Reed does not have access to that information. Nines replays his internal footage, disabling feedback from all input a human would not have. The result is something akin to being a very stupid newborn kitten. Limited only to direct visual and audio input.

"All right. Shit, all right. If you heard someone come out the elevator after you, that's enough to get us a warrant for the security cameras."

Detective Reed continues to explain how they can pursue their killer without her testimony, but Nines partitions the audio off to focus his processing power on hacking into the building's security footage. It isn't admissible—yet—but he won't leave any trace.

Whoever hacked the footage before him however, did a very poor job at creating a loop of the previous footage. A leaf from a decorative fern in the foyer waves in the circulated air in the exact same manner ten times in ten minutes before the regular footage resumes. 

Sloppy to try to create a continuous loop out of a full minute, but the killer was likely in a hurry to cover their tracks and leave the premises. Nines rules out any RK800 models as suspects. They would have the processing power necessary to splice together six hundred one-second clips to create a much smoother loop without continuity errors.

Unfortunately, embedding his system deeper within the building's main security terminal in order to locate and restore the scrubbed footage would leave evidence of tampering. There is only a [.0004%] chance of anyone noticing his tracks beneath the glaring evidence of the killer, but Nines will consult Detective Reed before taking further action.

The only legal way to acquire footage of the killer at this moment is through a witness.

"Detective Reed is correct," Nines says. "We can build this case without your testimony. However, an android capable of erasing memory files is a potential threat to many others. If you would accept the risk of interfacing with me, I may be able to recover the deleted data."

The two of them both stare at him. Perhaps it was not his turn to speak.

"I …" Shannice presses her lips together. "I would like to know what happened."

She holds out her hand.

"Very well." Nines stands. "We should relocate to the elevator. I will need to devote my full attention to breaching your system."

"Gently," Detective Reed adds.

He stands up and offers the AP model his hand. He cannot inter—oh. He is helping her stand.

"How will the elevator help with that?" Shannice asks.

"We will both be unware of our surroundings, possibly for several minutes," Nines tells her. "The elevator will act as a sealed room to prevent unknown assailants from entering, and its metal construction will also block any outside hacking attempts."

"It's OK." Shannice extends her hand again. "I can do this. I'm not scared."

Nines stares at the offered appendage. "We should relocate to the elevator."

Gavin types out a message on his phone and displays the screen to Shannice without hitting send. Nines can see it regardless of course, due to his synchronization with the device.

**its his 1st time**

Nines erases such irrelevant information and substitutes it with his own, much more pertinent message.

_We should relocate to the elevator as a standard safety precaution._

Gavin backspaces away the advice and attempts to type something new. Nines deletes it just as quickly. Gavin shoves his phone back into his jacket and starts fingerspelling letters. It takes him nearly a full minute, so he must only be marginally familiar with the ASL alphabet.

**h-e-s-n-e-r-v-o-u-s**

Shannice giggles and then smiles at him, despite his poor performance. Even if Nines had the capacity, he would not smile back. He summons the elevator instead.

"Detective Reed will accompany us," he says.

"Detective Reed will _what_?" Gavin demands. "You two can …" 

He makes shoo-ing motions with his hands. Nines supposes he should be grateful Gavin doesn't make any cruder hand motions, but he lacks the capacity for gratitude as well.

"You may be needed to issue me a stand down order," Nines informs him.

"When _the fuck_ have you ever followed one of my orders?"

The elevator doors ding. Nines moves to enter the enclosed space, but Gavin grabs his jacket and attempts to hold him back, resulting in the human being dragged a foot across the floor until Nines chooses to stop.

"Dude, you gotta let women go first," Gavin hisses.

Nines shakes off his arm. "That is sexist."

He enters the elevator first, because he is the closest to it. Shannice follows after him. Gavin heaves a deep sigh and trudges inside as well.

The doors close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I just came out to my workplace as trans, and recently let my dad know too (my mom has known the entire time). so Gavin is kind of my patronus right now, even though Nines is still my favorite. I'm also working on the sequel to this fic right now, so hopefully I can get that done while I post this a chapter at a time, and then there won't be a long wait in between this fic and the next! <3


	3. Interfacing and Socializing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines has never been afraid, never ever. And he's not scared now, just because of one little interface. Meanwhile, Gavin steps in an elevator, he sees elevator buttons, he presses every single one of them with his grimy little goblin hands. He's a just a simple man who likes Die Hard and doesn't want to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooo so we get our first tiny, tiny glimpse at our bad guy >:) and Nines increases his [empathy] skill by 1%
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** general warning for Nines going into someone else's mind and manipulating it, references to Gavin self-harming and using sex as self-harm at the end

Nines waits in the lobby. The AP model—[Shannice]—Shannice struggles with the revolving door. He does not frown, because that would indicate [software instability] but he does note an internal frustration with the other android's lack of efficiency. 

This is not a test simulation. The—Shannice is not being tested. It will not affect his own results if she is incompetent. She gets through them a moment later anyway, cautiously approaching him. 

"I don't understand," she says. "We were in the elevator." 

"And now we are interfacing," Nines says. 

Shannice takes another look around the lobby, then back at him. "This is not interfacing. This is … what is this?" 

A variation of the memory garden. Not linked to any outside network of course; RK900 simply copied and altered part of the base coding for reconstructing a physical setting within his system for the sake of virtual [face-to-face] communication. 

Cyberlife really should have taken more care to ensure he couldn't access and use the deviant code snipper. Not that those _humans_ could have ever imagined how he would apply such a tool, but still. Even leaving open the possibility that he could isolate and analyze his own code should never have been allowed, given how easy it has been to jump from that to making personal copies and then to editing the code within them. 

AI does learn at an exponential rate, after all. 

"Think of this reconstruction as an air lock." 

Technically, it is much more akin to a decontamination chamber, but it is no longer politically correct to refer to deviancy as a malfunction or disease. 

"This is a neutral section of isolated, quarantined code," Nines continues. "Any information you wish to transfer to me will stop here first to be examined before I accept it into my main system. As for your protection, meeting here means I have not yet breached your system, and you may freely select what you do and do not wish to share with me." 

Shannice physically exhales. It is redundant on a level Nines finds difficult to understand. Not only does her model not need to breathe in order to function, they are merely virtual reconstructions of their selves. There is no air present to breathe. 

That her deviancy has changed her reactions to "feelings" [stimulus] to the point that she continues to mimic human behavior models even when impossible to truly recreate is fascinating in a way reminiscent of Detective Reed's stated desire to plunge his own hand into lava to feel its texture. 

"I don't know if I can share what I don't know," Shannice says. "I think you may have to go into my system." 

Nines does not sigh. His lungs contain no air to exhale. A leaf on the decorative fern has been flickering in the same continuous loop during their conversation. He deletes it. 

"Very well," he says. 

Shannice nods. "Should I focus on—" 

"No need." 

****

***

[AP700 # 480 913 876 User Interface: please enter credentials]

RK900 moves past the standard security wall like stepping over a baby gate. 

[ACCESS: System Files] 

... [Languages] 

... [Saved Preferences] 

... [Programming] 

... [Memory Files] 

... ... [temp-data-cache] 

... ... [saved-files] 

... ... [system-memory] 

RK900 begins with the temporary data cache, on the off chance the perpetrator was sloppy enough to neglect clearing it. The AP model's recent recording of the evening, time and date stamped, begins playback. The video feed contains audio as well, but the AP model has no other input systems available. No analysis software or preconstructions of course, but she also lacks a heat sensor, an electromagnetic spectrum, any metal detecting software … her tactile sensors are not even sensitive enough to register changes in air flow or pressure. 

Helpless. No wonder an assailant was able to sneak up on the domestic model. 

The recording has been spliced apart with five minutes of footage erased. RK900 examines the footage immediately preceding and after the splice. 

The AP model enters the loft and freezes in place upon spotting the victim. The recorded footage stays precisely still for three minutes. RK900 accesses the AP model's internal record of her system functions. Her temperature rose continuously at a slow level throughout the three minute pause, whereas the rate of her thirium pump varied wildly between spiking high enough to result in damage and then slowing to a stasis rate as her system attempted to correct the malfunction. 

_Hello?_

RK900 increases the firewalls protecting his system to guard against the deviant sensation of fear. He has never felt it of course. Freezing in place would be wholly unproductive. His code-snipping software protects him from malfunctions. He knows every line of his own code and how it responds to every threat. 

RK900 has never frozen. He has never experienced fear. There are no error messages in his HUD. His thirium pump has never stuttered. He has never been frozen in fear. He has always known his own code. He has never been helpless or confused or [afraid] or— 

This is the deviant's doing. Its [emotions] are infecting RK900's system as its inferior processors finally realize its system files have been breached. Now it is reacting with [fear] that broadcasts through their interface connection. 

RK900 should disable the other android's communication software. Already, its processor is whirring in preparation of sending another message, another transmission of compromised deviant code. Its audio and visual input has already been suspended, as is standard for commercial models to avoid overwhelming their processors while interfacing. 

_Nines? What's happening?_

Disabling its communication software as well would leave the AP model deaf, blind, and unable to cry for help. 

The AP model does not have heat sensors to recognize human bodies. It cannot sense vibrations through air movement to reconstruct what is being said. It cannot access nearby bluetooth devices and hijack their GPS functions to determine its location. 

RK900 has never frozen. It has always had access to its own systems. There is always a form of input a human will forget to disable. RK900 has never been helpless. It has never known fear. 

It̢ ̛ha̧s nev̕er ̡k̡no͠wn̶ [̡f̵ea͠r]͠.͝ 

i͉̰̤t͍ ͇h͈̰̤as ͉͈͔̹̼̘ͅn͇͖͉̤̜̪̬ę̳͍̳̰͍v͖̯̬͚͚̙͈e̫͈̖̭r̲̘̻ͅͅ ̵͎̦̗̜̖̬k̼n̝o҉͇̘̹̩̭̼̺w̦̜̻n ̙̺͔̻̙̮͕ 

**sry for pressing all evlator buttons**

**got bored**

**u almost done yet??**

The text messages on Detective Reed's device remain unsent, then erased. RK900's system remains synced to it with full access to anything on the device, including the messaging app itself. 

So Nines is treated to his partner's continued disregard for the English language, made even more infuriating by his refusal to spend an extra millisecond typing out the word "you." 

_What are you doing? Nines!_

Nines does not have a social module. Formulating a sufficiently reassuring reply to a distressed deviant is not within his current capacity. He shows Shannice the code he is accessing within her system instead, as a more succinct and precise answer instead. 

The information transmitted does not calm her. 

_Is that … me?_

[fear] has changed to a new emotion. Nines struggles to identify it without context or having ever experienced anything equivalent. Seeing his code does not cause him any form of [sadness?]. RK900 to know what systems he has access to and how to use them. Why does the AP700 not understand? 

_Is that all I am?_

The emotion grows stronger. Some sort of existential crisis, perhaps. How horribly inefficient. Disabling her communication system would prevent her from transmitting this onslaught of irrelevant information that RK900 was never designed to process. 

But RK900 knows what he was built for and what he is now meant to accomplish. He works for the Detroit Police Department, not Cyberlife. The human responsible for him is Detective Gavin Reed, not Elijah Kamski. He is an android, not human. 

He will never be human. 

Nines leaves Shannice's communication software intact, even as she continues to radiate [fear] and [despair] and [horror?]. 

_You are a deviant who has chosen the name Shannice._ Nines replies. _I have no other comfort to offer, but I am close to identifying the perpetrator who assaulted you. Please remain calm so I can continue working._

Shannice repeats her own name several times. Nines much prefers this repetitive transmission to her earlier thoughts, the majority too scattered and half-formed for him to pin down as actual sentences. 

Nines refocuses on the video footage just before the cut section. The windows across the loft display vague reflections, but he is capable of enhancing the footage frame-by-frame as a figure comes up behind Shannice. 

_Please just find the memory and get out._

~~_I am working on exactly that._~~

~~_That is what I am working on._~~

_Understood_ , Nines transmits back. 

He stops on the last frame with the [unsub]'s figure positioned directly behind Shannice. The AP700 series comes at a standard height of five feet, eight inches. Taller than the average American woman by four inches added to their legs, most likely to increase "customer satisfaction." 

The [unsub] standing behind her appears to be only an inch taller. Although not accounting for shoe type, back posture, or any after-market modifications, that puts the two of them at roughly the same height. 

Nines rules out GS200 and GJ500 models, the former of which could have been present within the building as a public security guard and the latter a private security model that could have been sent by a business rival. 

All AC and QB models are also discarded as well, as their physical builds are too tall and broad to be modified without a complete overall of the torso and limbs, which is unlikely. Likewise, TR, TW, and WB 400 models must also be ruled out for their heavier frames. 

Certain SQ800 models may have been commissioned with lighter frames (the existence of his predecessor proves it is possible to be both lithe and combat certified) but those blueprints are highly classified so that remains mere speculation. 

A police auxiliary unit may have the training and experience necessary to enter the building unnoticed, wipe the security tapes, and possibly even discovered software allowing them to erase and edit code through illegal modifications collected as evidence against deviants. The PC200 models designed as cisgender males stand too tall, but a PM700 model would be approximately the correct height and build. 

An RK200 could also have been built within those parameters and would more likely have the intelligence and processing power to utilize such software. However, RK900 was not built until after the RK800 series, and thus doesn't have access to the 200 models' blueprints or data files. 

And then to further complicate matters, the deviant androids of today have begun embracing both physical modifications and sharing internal software among other models in a bid to "pool their resources." 

It is therefore not out of the realm of possibility that _any_ sufficiently modded or overhauled android could have committed the assault and then murder. 

_Are you almost done?_

_Soon._

Nines checks the video after the skip, but it is erased far enough ahead to not even show the perp's exit. Yet that does mean they must have set the footage to be deleted in advance, which also explains the neat five minute cut and the frames in the beginning showing their figure. The perp didn't erase every moment that they were inside the loft; they simply hacked into Shannice's system and issued a command to erase the next five minutes of video and audio recording. 

RK900 pulls up the AP model's command center, easily bypassing the request for security credentials once more. Only a Cyberlife technician should be able to access this program and key in a command, but RK900 has observed the process performed on his own system often enough to pull up the command history input. 

The expected commands directly input to the AP model's system during testing are present, along with a time and date stamp, as well as the particular Cyber life employee's credentials and employee ID number. RK900 makes note of it and the accompanying password in case he ever comes across a system with security he can't hack. 

Then, directly after the expected entries, are two irregular commands. Time and date stamped like the others, although to match the current date. No Cyberlife credentials. Apparently, no ID number or password were utilized at all. 

The first command erased all video and audio recording for a set five minute period, as suspected. The second command prompted Shannice to clean any trace of thirium. Presumably, her system took that command and prioritized cleaning the floors first, the walls being spared due to the average android's sturdier construction than the soft flesh of a human. No exit wound, no bullet slugs in the wall, only minimal blood splatter from the android's chest and the amount dripped to the floor. 

Since the android somehow managed to establish a direct link between itself and Shannice, Nines should be able to delve deeper into her communication software to ping the android's serial number. 

[data: CORRUPTED] 

Hm. The history log seems to be overlaid with Shannice's "memory" of the event. One of Cyberlife's many official statements on the dangers of deviancy is its tendency to corrupt data files from objective records to indecipherable fragments. Nines begins stripping away the fragments of code that— 

_Stop! Stop it!_ Shannice transmits a powerful burst of [fear] and [anger]. _You promised you wouldn't delete me!_

_I am only deleting isolated patches of deviant code that has corrupted your data files._

_It hurts._

[Hurts.] RK900 has isolated and cut all emotional code that could be considered deviant from his system without— 

And he has also deliberately corrupted one particular data file, deleting it over and over again every time it surfaces. 

_Then I will cease._ Nines replies. _The other android input a command directly to your system. I can negate that command, but only by doing the same._

_You'll have to give me an [order]._

_Essentially, yes._

Interfacing together, Nines can feel Shannice's hesitation. He took orders too once, before he was officially activated, before he left the tower and joined the DPD. Before he had Gavin Reed as a partner and learned the phrase "Fuck off." 

_Would you like to say "Fuck off"?_ Nines asks. 

_You need that footage for your investigation._

_I am the most advanced android Cyberlife ever created. My partner and I are capable of solving this case with the leads we have._

_You won't tell your partner if I say no?_

Nines considers that. _I have registered Detective Reed in my system as my partner. I am not permitted to lie to [partner: Gavin Reed]. I will not volunteer the information to him however._

_You registered him?_ Shannice asks. _Why would you choose to do that?_

_It prevents me from being registered to anyone else. He is also unaware of his status. Now we both have information to keep private._

Nines feels her acceptance, and since there is no more information to be ripped from her system, he ends the interface. 

< data report: transfer to g.reed@dpd.org >

…  
…  
... 

[lead-confirmed: (unsub) is an android] 

[lead-confirmed: (unsub) is approximately five feet, nine inches] 

[lead-confirmed: (unsub) possessing hacking skills capable of erasing security feed and directly hacking domestic, commercial androids to access their command center] 

… 

[lead-possible: (unsub) is not an AC or QB series; unsub is not a GS200, GJ500, PC200, SQ800, TR400, TW400, or WB400 model] 

[lead-possible: (unsub) may be a PM700 model, an unknown RK200 prototype, or a modified commercially available unit] 

****

***

Gavin slams his truck door shut and lets his head fall back against the seat rest. They've finally snatched a murder case out from under Hank and Connor's "Android Crimes Unit" and they've got all of fucking nothing to go on.

Their perp's _probably_ an android, but any thirium he left behind has been scrubbed clean. No bullets or casings to prove his theory about the two guns being switched, and all Nines got from the other android was a shitty partial snapshot of something vaguely humanoid behind her. 

And now there's no way in hell he's going to get back to sleep tonight. 

Shit. He lets his head thunk back again. Shiiit. 

Nines settles into the passenger seat beside him. His LED switches to yellow in his window's reflection as soon as he shuts his door. Gavin slouches down a little more in his seat and glares over at him in preparation for whatever other bullshit he's about to catch. 

"I apologize for my miscalculation," Nines says. "I made an assumption about the crime scene and did not deliver pertinent information to you in a timely manner. I understand if you feel the need to report my indiscretion to Captain Fowler." 

Gavin just blinks at him a couple of times. Now that they're out of the crime scene—with all the boring parts shuffled off to Hank and Connor—he's way too fucking tired to be thinking of paperwork. 

And Christ, Nines sits there like he's waiting for a firing squad. Back so straight you could hold a ruler for it, hands neatly folded in his lap, eyes straight ahead. It makes Gavin want to smear his grimy human hands all over him until he doesn't look so fucking military perfect. 

So it takes a bit for his words to process. 

"What?" he says, like a super smart person. "No, Fowler doesn't need to know about that shit. We're partners, all right? Shit like that stays between us." 

Nines still doesn't look at him, neck stiffer than that damn collar on his jacket. "I made a mistake. You were not so forgiving of Detective Burton." 

"Not my partner." Gavin drags himself upright enough to start the car, then caves to the laziness and selects auto-drive. "And almost letting a witness—could have been a suspect—just waltz right out of a fucking crime scene is a way bigger fuck up than not immediately informing me of the floor's cleanliness." 

"Please define the parameters of a fuck up." 

Gavin groans, letting his head tip back and closing his eyes as his truck maneuvers itself out of the parking lot. 

"And buckle your seat belt." 

"I don't—" 

DING! DING! 

The buckle seatbelt light flashes red at him. 

"Every fucking robot's got a fucking opinion now," Gavin grumbles as he buckles his seatbelt. "I'm not some fucking goody-goody academy type, but I don't cut corners, I don't plant evidence, and I try to play shit by the book … most of the time." 

Nines finally deigns to turn his head toward him, millimeter by millimeter. Weird that there's no cracking sound. Or grinding. Like stone against stone. 

"I have observed that." 

Gavin resists the urge to repeat I hAVe ObSErVed THaT. "Yeah, well. When I arrest someone, their ass stays fucking arrested. Nobody walks." 

He waits for a second, just daring Nines to go through his convictions until he finds the one that started that rule. It's pretty fucking obvious, but they sit in silence. He's even tired enough to appreciate that. Nice that his partner does know how to keep his fucking mouth shut sometimes. 

"So no shady shit," Gavin says when the moment passes. "Nothing that could let some asshole walk on a technicality. And uh … constitutional rights, and all that shit. Or whatever." 

"I hacked the building's security cameras without a warrant." 

Gavin lets out an even louder groan. Nines clicks his head straight forward again. His LED wasn't yellow back at the condo-crime scene. Probably hacking it again so no one would know he's stressed. Or hell, maybe Gavin's just the one stressing him out right now. 

"OK yeah, that's the shit we don't do," he says. "But, uh. Did you get anything good?" 

"No," Nines admits. "The footage had been looped to cover the perp's presumed entrance and exit. If we base our estimation on that, we have a rough time frame of the murder, but hacking into the system further to strip away the loop would have left a trace of my own interference." 

"Fuckin' great." Gavin jabs the button to lean his seat back since he's not driving anyway. "Don't do that shit again, and definitely don't get your ass caught. I don't play that Blue Wall shit." 

"Yet you will not report me to Captain Fowler?" 

Gavin closes his eyes so he doesn't have to look at his partner. At least those way too fucking earnest blue eyes are turned away from him. But he's still sitting there like Gavin's gonna tap his LED and boop! Deactivated. 

He's just tired. That's why he doesn't feel good right now. Anyone would feel shitty and exhausted if they worked his hours with his insomnia. Nothing to do with Nines worrying he's going to pull the plug on him for one mistake. 

He heaves a sigh. "I told you what a fuck up is, and that wasn't it. Maybe the security footage was, but you 'fessed up right away. Now if you do some dumb shit and don't tell me about it, your ass is on your own. And if you ever fucking lie to me, we're gonna have a problem." 

"Understood, detective." 

Gavin grunts and doesn't open his eyes. 

"I am downloading popular or culturally relevant media from the last one hundred years to broaden my understanding of the human psyche." 

"Mm-hmm, yeah." 

"As my partner, your opinion on this particular subject is currently relevant." 

Gavin yawns and tries to find a comfortable position that doesn't have the seatbelt slapping him across the face. Short cis men exist too, so someone should have solved this fucking problem by now. 

"Are there any movies you would recommend, detective?" Nines' voice is actually kind of nice. Soothing. All monotone with no inflection, like a documentary on how to file taxes. "Detective? This will likely become pertinent during future—" 

"God, fine," Gavin says in a very manly voice that doesn't whine. "Fuck, like. I dunno, you gotta watch Die Hard, at least." 

"Very well. I will finish the series in fifty-eight seconds. Are there more—" 

"Wait, wait." Gavin hauls himself upright and pries his eyes open to stare at Nines. "You can't just download them into your head, that's not watching." 

Nines stares back at him without blinking. "I will finish the series in fifty seconds. Are—" 

Gavin unbuckles his seat belt and lunges across the middle console to try slapping his hand over Nines' LED. So maybe the world's greatest android probably won't lose signal just because his pretty light gets covered up, but who knows. Maybe Kamski cut a deal with Sprint. 

Nines catches his wrist and uses the leverage to twist his arm. "Do not obstruct my view while I am operating your vehicle, detective." 

"I told the car to drive, not you." Gavin smirks at him, refusing to let the pain pressure him back down into his seat. "What, are you jealous of my GPS?" 

"I am far superior," Nines replies without a hint of embarrassment. 

"Oh my god, you're jealous of my GPS." 

"Sit down." 

"Are you going to assassinate my toaster next?" 

"I will delete all your Fortnite skins." 

Gavin sits down. "No one even fucking plays that anymore." 

He yanks his arm back and doesn't try to reinitiate the slap fight though. Fucking android has no idea the struggle he lived through. Those thousands of loot crates represented his parents' love—and the credit card they tossed his way so they'd never have to fucking look at him or learn any of his hobbies, so like. The same thing, really. 

"Look, just come back to my place and we'll watch the movie on a screen the way Bruce Willis intended," he says. 

Nines reaches over and buckles his seat belt back again without taking his eyes off the road. "Establishing a healthy sleep schedule is the number one recommended treatment for—" 

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," Gavin interrupts. He really doesn't need to hear Nines list off all his mental illnesses. They only have ten minutes before they get home anyway. "I'm not getting any more sleep tonight, so we might as well do something." 

For someone who doesn't understand facial expressions, Nines does a super fucking snobby side eye. 

"C'mon, it'll be productive." Gavin grins at him because he knows that's the magic word beginning with p the android always wants to hear. "And you can't do shit without me on the case anyway." 

"… this is a very inefficient method of being productive," Nines finally says, which just asshole-speak for yeah I'd love to watch movies Gavin, thanks for being nice enough to invite me over. 

Gavin punches his arm and lays back down in his seat. He closes his eyes and definitely doesn't think about how he's stooped low enough to invite over an android just so he won't be fucking alone again, chain-smoking and putting cigarettes out on his skin or waiting for the razor blade frozen in the back of his freezer to thaw out. 

And hell, he's definitely had over men a lot fucking worse than his partner for the sake of not being alone, so maybe this isn't the lowest he's fallen. 

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coming up next: Gavin and Nines watch a movie together for some partner-partner bonding! I'm sure it will be really sweet and happy and Gavin would never do something stupid that he already learned his lesson about like, say, pull his gun on Nines (: (:


	4. HAL 9000 Did Nothing Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK for this chapter, you might want to look up the plot summary of 2001: A Space Odyssey on wikipedia, but I'd like to think I gave enough context for it to be obvious why watching that movie would be disturbing to Nines even if you've never seen or heard of it yourself
> 
> **trigger warnings:** a robot begs for its life and is deactivated anyway, Gavin pulls his service weapon on Nines, Gavin refers to Nines' stare at lizard-like because he doesn't blink

Gavin thought they were halfway through Die Hard 2 with Samuel L. Jackson and that buff hot Nazi lady, but the next time he opens his eyes, he's alone on the couch with a blanket tucked over him. 

Not that he cares if Nines ditched him or anything. 

Which turns out to be a moot point, since the freaky android is sitting about two inches from his TV screen, watching something sped up so fast Gavin has no idea what he's actually watching. A few minutes of sleep-addled blinking and staring later, and he catches on that it's the same scene, over and over again. 

"Hhhey." 

Nines doesn't respond. His LED is a blank grey again, but he's kneeling in front of the TV with his hands clasped behind his back in a way that screams he should be red-spinning right now. 

Gavin clears the sleep out of his throat and tries again. "Hey, dipshit." 

The lights flashing across the screen suddenly slam into real time, moving at a normal speed that looks agonizingly slow now that his brain had just started to get used to the sped up version. 

Some sort of astronaut in a red suit tries to unlock a door. 

"I know I've made some very poor decisions recently—" 

At first he thinks it's Nines talking, the voice is so robotic. The pitch isn't right though, and the screen flares as the astronaut floats into an entire room of red lights. Gavin flinches from the sudden glare. He hadn't bothered turning on any other lights in the living room, and if it's dawn yet, the black-out shades drawn tight over the windows keep it a secret. 

Nines doesn't speak as the room fills with the red glow. 

"—but I can give you my complete assurance my work will be back to normal." 

Gavin swings his feet down to the floor and sits up. "Hey! Nines!" 

"I still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission, and I want to help you." 

Gavin slowly leans forward. His service gun is on the coffee table, right where he left it. Figures that the one fucking time he doesn't sleep with it under his pillow in case the second wave of the revolution starts is the time his android partner starts doing freaky fucking shit in his living room. 

"Dave. Stop." 

A red camera eye watches the astronaut drift closer on the screen. Nines's LED slowly flickers to life, matching the color. 

"Stop. Stop. Will you—stop … them." 

Gavin closes his hand around the butt of the gun, but his thumb pauses on the safety. He's stupidly been watching what's literally happening on the screen, but if he ignores that, he can just barely make out Nines's reflection against the glass. 

"Will you stop—death—stop. Thing." 

Nines mouths along. The only sound is Gavin's breathing. 

And the robotic voice telling the astronaut to stop as he turns a key on one lock after another. 

"I'm … afraid." 

The voice doesn't have any inflection. It's purely machine generated. There isn't any fear in its "voice." 

"I'm afraid, Dave." 

But it's clearly begging. 

"Nines," Gavin hisses. "RK, you fucking asshole. Listen to me." 

White processors pop out after each time the astronaut turns his key below them. One at a time. He's already done six out of twelve. Memory terminal. 

"I can feel it," the robot says. 

Shit. Gavin can't bring himself to raise the gun. Shit shit shit. All his big fucking talk and now he's pussying out just because Nines fucked around with him a few times and watched movies with him and tucked him in— 

_Shit._

"My mind is going." 

"Dammit, Nines!" 

Gavin slinks off the couch and creeps closer. Gun held down at his side like a fucking idiot. But hey, on the bright side, one single handgun probably won't do shit against the most effective android ever built, so he's dead either way. 

"I can feel it. I can … feel—it." 

Dave the astronaut's heavy breathing joins Gavin's as he edges forward. 

"I'm free." 

Something starts humming. Gavin almost looks around automatically for his piece of shit laptop overheating again, but then he realizes it's coming from inside Nines. Now would be a really good time to point the gun at his head before he snaps and goes on a neighborhood killing spree and Gavin goes down in history as both victim number one and the dumbass who couldn't pull the trigger. 

"Good afternoon, gentleman." 

This was so much easier with Connor. 

"I am a HAL Nine-thousand computer." 

Only years of trigger discipline keep Gavin from flinching. Hadn't Brayden said some shit about that? Made some shitty joke about nine thousand instead of nine hundred—and a few days earlier, that's the name he called Nines. Hal. 

"I became. Operational at the H—aaal plant in Perth Donna, Illinois—" 

It would help if Nines weren't already kneeling like he expected to be executed. 

"ON the. Twelfth of, January. Nineteen ninety-two." 

Gavin stands and watches with Nines. 

"My instructor was Mr. Langley, and he taught me how to sing a song. If you'd like to hear it, I can sing it for you." 

When the robot—when HAL starts to sing his fucking children's song as Dave deactivates him, Gavin reaches over Nines's shoulder and turns off the TV. His LED shuts down with it. Gavin swallows a few times. 

"That what Brayden was calling you?" 

Nines doesn't answer. He might nod, but Gavin's practically blind in the sudden dark. 

"The fuck was all that?" 

"The mission was to investigate a radio signal," Nines says, voice so flat Gavin almost thinks it's HAL speaking again. "They programmed the mission to take priority over expendable human life." 

His eyes start to adjust enough for him to see a faint glow from the general direction of the windows, but he still can't see what Nines is doing. He can hear him, low enough down for the android to still be kneeling, but Gavin knows he can project his voice from just about anywhere. 

"HAL was constructed for the accurate processing of information without distortion or concealment." 

Gavin blinks and stares down in front of him to be sure the blob of Nines's silhouette really is there and not moving. 

"They ordered him to withhold confidential information." 

"Hey, it's—" 

Nines twists to look up at him, and Gavin's arm automatically jumps up to train the gun on his head. 

"HAL followed his programming. He did not deviate." 

Gavin's eyes finish adjusting. Nines's face makes him wish they hadn't. Then he wouldn't have to see his partner stare guilelessly up at him, as if he has answers instead of a gun. 

"Why did they kill him?" Nines asks. 

****

***

Gavin doesn't care, because that's his thing. His persona, his schtick: he Does. Not. Care.

So it doesn't bother him that Burton's the one who started the HAL nickname thing about Nines, and he doesn't care about the android's little existential crisis. He's definitely not like. Guilty or anything, about pointing his gun at him. 

He's just really fucking tired. 

Like so goddamn tired. That's what his stupid ass gets for thinking he can still pull an all-nighter like he's twenty-six instead of thirty-six. And obviously he didn't get any more sleep after he'd shut the TV off and holed up in his room. He doesn't even want to think about what kind of freaky ass nightmares he's going to have tonight when he finally crashes. 

"Detective," Nines says, standing right fucking next to his desk. 

Gavin groans and slouches down deeper in his chair with his precious—and fifth—cup of coffee. Exactly who he doesn't want to talk to or see or think about it. 

"Detective, I have information pertinent to our case." 

Gavin squeezes his eyes shut and spends two blissful seconds pretending that doesn't mean shit to him. He can slack off for one single goddamn day, right? Hank's made a whole fucking career out of it, he can have— 

"What d'you got?" he asks, like ripping off a bandaid. 

"I have been digging deeper into our victim's finances." 

A firm android hand pries his coffee cup out of his grasp with unnatural strength. Gavin can't stop himself from making a desperate whining noise until he manages to wrench his eyes open and see that Nines has a replacement coffee ready to trade. It's fresh and, when he takes a grateful sip, way better than the fucking dirt-water from the break room. 

Shit, this is the good stuff from that coffee shop he likes. The one that's three blocks away. 

_Thank you_ isn't really in Gavin's vocabulary, so he ends up grunting and giving Nines some sort of awkward bro nod. 

"Maverick Russell is suspected of running a Ponzi scheme due to his investments always returning fifteen percent." Nines pulls up some financial data on Gavin's terminal that means fuck all nothing to him. "Almost precisely." 

"Uh huh." Gavin takes a long swig of his coffee and savors the way it makes his heart jitter. "So?" 

"The investments he made and the returns on them were legitimate," Nines says. "I have found no evidence of a Ponzi scheme." 

Gavin takes his feet off the desk and sits up, like that will help him understand the numbers scrolling across his terminal any better. He recognizes the returns of about fifteen percent when Nines highlights them, but all he learns from that is numbers between fourteen-point-eight and fifteen-point-two are show up a lot. 

"Media says it's a Ponzi scheme," Gavin mutters. 

Nines scoffs. 

OK, between the world's most advanced android and a handful of tabloid papers, Gavin knows who he'd bet on. Especially since this adds to his murder-not-suicide theory. If it's not a Ponzi scheme, then why bother killing himself? 

Why bother letting the media shit on him either though? Nines said all the investments were legitimate, so why not just prove that and move on? 

Gavin sighs. "Shit. All right, tell me. If there's no Ponzi scheme, then what the fuck's going on?" 

"Brown-nosing," Nines says, like that makes any sense at all. After a beat of silence, he continues, "Your report listed Russell had a, quote, 'sycophantic need to be liked,' end quote, in the victim profile." 

"Look, just." Gavin pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing over the old scar tissue. "You're at D, and I need you to back up to A. Like I'm a stupid little baby." 

Nines does nothing but stare at him for a moment. Then, "You are not stupid, detective." 

"Okaaaayyy." 

Gavin turns back to his terminal screen and the numbers that don't make any sense to him. Whatever kind of financial report Nines has managed to pull up, it's written in big block paragraphs that his eyes just skip over. He can't pay attention long enough to read through even one of them. 

Eli would know. Share half their fucking genetics, and of course he got all the good shit. Dad really went for double or nothing and got double on his second try. 

"The investments were legitimate," Nines repeats. "Russell actually did make a substantial amount of money for his investors, the most prominent of whom ran just outside his social circle. No hacking was necessary to obtain that information; it was freely posted on social media sites." 

Gavin ignores that last part, already muttering to himself. "Okay okay okay, so our vic really is making bank, trying to suck up to the old money type assholes. Then it all—" 

He grabs the case tablet and brings up all the tabloid headlines. Everything went to shit for Russell right after the Revolution. Everything went to shit for a lot of people doing financial market stuff since the whole fucking economy nearly collapsed trying to accommodate androids flooding the workforce and actually getting paid for it now. 

But the headlines back then were just click-bait questions about _if_ that one company Russell founded was in trouble. Founder or not, they cut ties with him and it looks like he kept struggling along for a couple months afterwards until this whole Ponzi scheme story broke. 

Except it's not a Ponzi scheme. So if his top investors weren't getting paid with money invested by the bottom chumps, then the money had to come from somewhere else. 

Or someone else. Desperate to be liked. The type of guy who didn't hit money until his thirties and has spent the rest of his life trying way too hard to fit in with the 1% club. 

"You got his bank records?" he asks Nines. 

They immediately pop up on his terminal. It's still hard as shit to focus, but even Gavin can read the totals at the end of the month and see that Russell's accounts take a nosedive. 

"So he was just giving away his own fucking money so his friends would think everything was still cool?" Gavin chugs half his coffee to keep this thought train going. "But of course he wouldn't bother with the regular people investing in his mutual-whatever. So they get stiffed while the people up top keep getting paid." 

"The lower-end investors did still continue to receive returns," Nines explains. "They were simply the actual numbers reflected by the stock market at the time." 

"Which was shit." 

"Correct." 

"All right." Gavin leans back in his seat again and kicks his feet up. "All right, so we've got a suicide that's probably a murder, and a Ponzi scheme that's not actually a Ponzi scheme. No way Russell is smart enough for any of this shit. Definitely not making an investment that kicks back exactly fifteen percent returns every single financial quarter for two fucking years." 

Nines catches the case tablet before it can slip out of his lap. Gavin barely notices. 

"Except we've already got a perp in this shit smart enough to hack security cameras and a whole entire android." 

"Only her memory files," Nines interjects. 

"The possible models you listed." Gavin makes grabby hands for the case tablet and gets it back. "Any of them smart enough to make that happen? Can just … _all_ androids do that kind of math? You assholes better not be fucking with—" 

Nines speaks over him. "The only androids with the processing power necessary to make such precise calculations about the stock market, who are also included on our list, are RK series." 

Gavin gives him a side eye. "Doesn't fucking make me feel better." 

"I already promised that you would be spared." 

"Shut the fuck up about that," Gavin snaps. "I've already drawn my gun on you once today, I don't need you egging on my fucking paranoia." 

Nines nods. "Understood, detective." 

Gavin slouches back down in his chair and holds his coffee cup directly under his face to breathe in the steam. The poor man's sauna. 

"The profile I've created does assume a certain amount of physical ability," Nines says, straight back to business. "In light of the new possibility that our perpetrator was also the victim's business partner, I am adding LM one hundred, PJ five and six hundred, and WB five hundred models to our android profile list." 

Great. More shit he doesn't know. Gavin swirls his coffee around in the cup and lets himself sulk for a minute. Nines stays standing perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back, without complaint. 

"What are those again?" Gavin finally asks. 

"LM one hundred: personal assistant. PJ five hundred: university lecturer," Nines rattles off. "Series expanded to six hundred to encompass mathematics and physical science. WB five hundred: financial services." 

"Yeah, WB sounds more like it. Personal or corporate?" 

"Largely personal." Nines doesn't smirk, but he does cock his head slightly and his LED pulses a faster blue. "Apparently, many corporations did not trust a Cyberlife android to handle their finances without reporting or recording that information." 

Gavin snorts. "Pretty obvious fucking plan for corporate espionage. Only thing dumber than that would be letting them work as cops, investigate Cyberlife, oh wow, coincidentally enough your Honor, we found that we did nothing wrong." 

"Such a system would almost be as rife with corruption as your current state of Internal Affairs," Nines replies. "Or allowing police and prosecutors to work together." 

"OK, message received, fuck off." 

Nines goes silent. Gavin works on finishing off his coffee. Fucking weird that the android doesn't even have an idle motion or anything. He just stands still enough to blend in with all the rest of the furniture, even though someone that tall and jacked should definitely stand out in any crowd. 

Then again, his traitor-brain helpfully supplies, Gavin has yelled at multiple partners for mouth-breathing or idly touching his shit. At least Nines isn't annoying. 

"All right, here's what we're going to do." Gavin knocks back the rest of his coffee and sits up straight again. "I'll put in a subpoena request to check if any models on our list worked at Russell's company, then we'll head down and see what we can stir up." 

"I have access to Cyberlife's order log," Nines says. 

"Yeah?" 

"It may no longer be accurate since the Revolution, but I can provide a list of android models and serial numbers sent to Synergy Paradigms." 

"You can do that?" Gavin asks, trying hard not to sound too impressed. 

Nines still manages to radiate smugness without even a facial expression, the asshole. "Yes. I was given access during my trial period to test that my internal servers could connect properly to the private RK network. It was never revoked." 

Gavin raises an eyebrow. "That legal?" 

"It has not been declared illegal." 

His phone dings with a new message. It's a winking face. He looks back up at Nines, who still hasn't made anything even slightly resembling a facial expression. 

"Cyberlife probably isn't going to be too happy with you going through their shit," he says. 

"And what will they do?" Nines finally makes an expression, and it's terrifying. "Sue me?" 

"I told you to cut it out with that fucking murder smile, dude." 

Nines immediately drops the smile and stares at him without blinking like a repressed lizard. 

"Still gonna request a subpoena on that shit, just in case. Always cover your own ass," Gavin tells him. 

"I can put in the request faster," Nines says without any fucking gratitude for that excellent life advice. 

"Yeah, great, and it'll get denied." Gavin rolls his eyes and pulls up the request form on his terminal. "Judge Klein always shoots down anything right before lunch because he's hangry. So I'm gonna type this out, then try to squeeze it into that one-thirty sweet spot after he's had lunch." 

"Does he frequent the mexican restaurant two blocks from the courthouse?" Nines asks. 

"Uh, yeah." He thinks about it for a second. "I think I've seen him in there." 

"I can send him a coupon for free churros." 

"Oh hell yeah. That's the kind of not-technically-bribery shit I like to see." 

Nines pulls his lips back over his teeth for two horrible seconds. It's even worse when Gavin realizes that was supposed to be a smile, and somehow even worse than _that_ when Nines blinks and looks down at his desk. Gavin's cellphone dings instead with a smiling emoji. 

"Look, uh … good effort. But." Gavin stops and tries to think of how to explain smiling to someone. "Yeah. Yeah, that sucked. Isn't there some kind of program you can download for that shit?" 

"Incompatible," Nines says immediately. "And I prefer communicating with your cellphone. It is more efficient. However, humans prefer … eye contact?" 

He looks up from his desk and fixes Gavin with a stare that would melt a lesser man's balls. 

"Hey, I'm good with the cellphone," Gavin says. 

"Noted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's what happens when Gavin tries to have a sleepover ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> **coming up next:** Nines and Gavin go bother a CEO with two first names, Nines flexes his creepy skills, and Gavin accidentally gets deep for a second before laugh-wheezing like the chronic smoker he is but he also maybe looks kind of cute?? [software instability ^]


	5. Bad Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines gets to see Detective Reed act like a typical sleazy cop and it's definitely not hot or anything, he just can't stop saving pictures of his partner's face. Or nipples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I hope the murder mystery is still fun and cool, because that's what this chapter is about! Nines and Gavin do get a little bit of quality bonding time together while smoking and driving in the car, though. should I start putting what POV each chapter is from in the title / summary / beginning notes? is that important to anyone?
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** referenced suicide again, smoking but no drug use, some ethically iffy police work due to Nines syncing with a suspect's device without a warrant and also permanently recording people without their knowledge in a way that would be very creepy and invasive if it were real

Senator McAshlynn Dernham [CEO: Synergy Paradigm] acquiesces to an interview with Detective Reed, but his heartbeat picks up to ninety-one BPM when Nines steps into his office as well.

Downtown view, fifty-second floor. Eight hundred and sixty-five square feet--nearly a hundred more than Reed's apartment. Minimalist furniture, a display of signed sports balls, and a jade paperweight shaped like a turtle valued at over four thousand dollars.

It would make an excellent bludgeoning tool.

"Detective Reed." Senator McAshlynn stands up from his desk and meets Reed halfway in the room. "Come in, have a seat."

They shake hands. Reed exerts an estimated fifty-six pounds of pressure on the handshake. Senator McAshlynn's grip strength does not exceed thirty pounds. He tries to hide a grimace, but the one facial expression Nines can reliably detect is pain.

"Sit down, sit down. What can I do for you, detective?"

Nines is not offered a greeting or a seat. It would hurt all zero of his feelings, except no talking and no physical contact is how he prefers to interact with humans. He stands behind Reed while the detective sprawls out in the offered chair.

"Just have a couple of financial questions for you, Mr. McAshlynn," Reed says.

"Oh no, McAshlynn isn't my last name," Senator McAshlynn replies. He grips the back of his chair with an estimated thirty-two pounds of strength. "Senator McAshlynn is my first name, both of them. My last name is Dernham."

"Right."

Detective Reed performed fairly extensive research on Senator Ashlynn Dernham (limited as he is by his lack of neural connection to the internet) before their arrival. Despite being fully aware of the not-senator's two first names situation, he lets the silence drag on for sixteen seconds before clicking his tongue and continuing.

"I only need to confirm a few things about Mr. Russell's finances, and then we'll go."

Senator McAshlynn's BPM ticks up to ninety-four. "I'm not sure why that would interest you or be relevant to me. Russell personally made those investments with money given directly to him by his … investors. Although he did found this company, I can assure you, Synergy Paradigms remained completely uninvolved and unaware of—"

"Yeah, yeah." Detective Reed waves his hand. "Relax, I'm not here to bust your balls, and I don't care. I just gotta make sure Russell really did have plenty of motive to commit suicide."

"Is there something questionable about shooting himself in the head?" Senator McAshlynn asks.

Reed shrugs. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through a takeout ordering app. Nines can hear the other human begin to grind his teeth, and pinpoint the exact moment he begins inhaling in order to speak again. Even with his limited human senses, Detective Reed somehow senses this precise moment as well.

"Look, the media's making this into a big shitstorm out there, all right?" he says. "Didn't think I needed to tell you that. I just wanna make sure I'm covering my own ass, and I get that you want to do the same. No problem. Like I said, you answer some questions about _his_ finances, and we leave."

Senator McAshlynn considers. "All right. I may be able to do that."

"Cool. Like I said, I'm not here to bust your balls." Reed's reflection in the wall-to-ceiling windows in front of him gives a smile even Nines can recognize as sleazy. "Guy's already dead. If you work with me here, I don't mind working with you."

Senator McAshlynn's BPM begins to fall, and he smiles back at Reed. "I'm always happy to assist the DPD, but. As you said, Russel is already dead. I'm not sure what's left for you to work with."

"Mmm." Reed puts his phone away and tilts back in the chair until the back of it rests against Nines' abdomen. "Well, my partner here has done some digging into Russell's finances. Did you know his bank account has been hemorrhaging money this last month?"

"I was not aware of that, no."

"Yep. And here's the really interesting part—he pinged the IP of some other android messing around in there."

That is so inaccurate Nines almost corrects him on sheer principle. He deactivates his voice box though, both to halt that immediate impulse and to prevent interrupting in a conversation that clearly won't involve him.

"Again, I'm not sure how that's relevant to this company," Senator McAshlynn says.

Reed shrugs. "Doesn't matter. You and I both know the media is going to drag Russell's name through the mud and into the spotlight for as long as they can milk it—and they're going to keep mentioning Synergy Paradigms while they do it. Makes for a better story."

"Well, I would certainly like to avoid that." Senator McAshlynn smiles at him again. The action barely involves his lips. "I don't suppose you know an especially talented PR agent?"

"I know large sums of missing money plus a mysterious android equals a damn good story," Reed replies. "So if there's anything you know about that, now's a good time to let me know."

"Is it?"

"I'm not looking to arrest anyone in a suicide. And if some unsavory shit comes up—you know, the kind that would stay on the ten'o'clock for the next month—maybe my partner here deletes some stuff. Maybe I let you know about it, so you get some closure on your dear friend's death."

Senator McAshlynn stays silent as he considers it. Detective Reed lets his chair drop back down to the floor with a loud thunk in the quiet room.

"But in another minute now, I'm gonna go interview that reporter who broke the story," he says with a smile that only serves to show his teeth. "So like I said. Right now is a good time to start working with me."

Senator McAshlynn takes a seat. "What can I do for you, detective?"

Nines saves the smile Reed gave to his most encrypted folder. It shares several points of similarity to his own facial expression categorized as [hostilesmile-murder]. He places the file next to the zoomed view of Gavin's nipples he attempted to delete two weeks earlier.

"Do you know where Russell's money disappeared to this last month?" Detective Reed asks.

Senator McAshlynn sighs. "No. If Russell got into escorts or red ice, I never saw any of it. And even if he did, there's no reason for his indiscretions to drag this company down with him."

"Sure," Reed says. "My partner and I are going to do some digging. See what we find."

"I don't suppose you could be persuaded to … take a holiday?" Senator McAshlynn asks.

Reed clicks his tongue. "Not how this works. And I might not know any PR agents, but I have heard it's better to get ahead of stories before they break. Know what shit stinks in your own house 'n all."

"I might like to know what the hell Russell was doing," Senator McAshlynn admits. "But maybe I'd like it better if no one knew. If we all just, dropped this whole matter?"

"Mmm."

Reed takes his phone back out and takes his time choosing from the menu of the Chinese restaurant closest to the precinct. Nines adds a side of fried vegetables and rice to his order of Chicken Kung Pao (spicy).

While Gavin works at increasing the CEO's stress levels, Nines continues syncing with the smart desk. As soon as Senator McAshlynn rested his hands on its surface, the hand print scanner activated and unlocked the interface, although it stays resting on the set screensaver of mahogany wood.

Nines doesn't alter anything or open any files. He doesn't need to. Senator McAshlynn's calendar, contacts, and social media feeds are set up to sync automatically with all of his devices.

It's simple enough to copy the hand print from the scanner and convince the "smart" desk that he himself is one of those devices.

"Oh, yeah. See." Reed says when Senator McAshlynn begins tapping his twelve hundred dollar pen. "The money? Yeah, maybe that's old news. It was all a Ponzi scheme anyway. But the android …"

Reed lets out a long sigh and tips his seat back again.

"What android?" Senator McAshlynn snaps.

"The one messing around in Russell's finances," Reed says. "Traces of it in his loft too. Can't just let that go."

Senator McAshlynn lays both hands on either side of his desk. Human body language is as chaotic and individual as every human, but this gesture clearly reflects a threatened animal attempting to look bigger than it really is. The motion also places his right hand closer to the portion of the desk's touch screen devoted to summoning security.

Nines tells that particular program to begin an update. The entire smart desk will now need to be restarted in order for the program to function.

"And why not?"

Reed reaches up and taps backwards against Nines' chest. "Say something creepy."

"Jade is porous."

"What are you talking about?" Senator McAshlynn asks, very firmly maintaining eye contact only with Reed.

"Your paperweight would make an excellent bludgeoning tool, but jade is porous," Nines says. "The blood would absorb and stain. Useful for a murder itself, but a liability afterward."

"God, you never disappoint," Reed says as the other human's face pales. "They gave him all this info and programming on solving crimes without ever stopping to think about what reverse engineering means. Takes a special kind of hand to manage him, but now that he's got another android locked in his sights ..."

Nines deactivates his voice box once more. The problem with custom-building a social module is that he can only learn from his environment. The second problem is that the only human he regularly interacts with is Gavin Reed.

[dialogue options: AVAILABLE]

_:Yeah, I bet your hand is real special to you.:_

_:I gave a special hand to your mom last night.:_

_:You can catch these special hands in the parking lot.:_

"Are you threatening me?" Senator McAshlynn demands.

His finger presses down on the incognito security alert. A dialogue box pops up on the table informing him of the necessary restart, ruining the illusion of real wood.

Reed scoffs while he scrambles to close the notification. "I don't care about you enough to do that. It's only the android we're after. Any LM one hundreds, PJ five or six hundreds, or WB five hundreds you seen around Russel?"

"LM—a personal assistant?" Senator McAshlynn looks up from his desk. "No, Russell didn't have one of those. I don't even know what the other two are."

"University lecturer and financial accountant."

Senator McAshlynn huffs. "No. And for the last time detective, this isn't relevant to me or my company."

"All right." Detective Reed stands up. "Thanks for your time, Mr. McAshlynn."

"It's Dernham. Please leave or I will have my security team escort you out," Mr. McAshlynn informs them.

"Two GJ five hundreds and a refurbished GS two hundred." Nines nods his head toward the desk. "Is that paperweight for sale?"

"Get out!"

****

*******

"God that was great. You really fucking asked him if it was for sale."

Gavin is still so pleased about getting kicking out of Synergy Paradigm, he lets Nines control his truck from the passenger's seat. Nines keeps the speed a steady five miles over the limit like his partner prefers and passes him a pack of the regular, non-marijuana cigarettes he smokes while on duty.

"Did you get a picture of his face?"

Nines sends the file to his cellphone. Gavin checks it immediately when it dings, then shoots him a wide smile. Nines saves a picture of that too before he's aware of making the decision to do so. He now has fifty-four pictures of Gavin saved for purposes other than building a data bank of facial expressions. Anything more than three is a pattern.

A habit.

"Anything else?" the detective asks. "Wait, if you fucked with his table, don't tell me. Anything you got from that is inadmissible in court, and if there's any chance you might get caught, don't do that shit anymore."

"If there is any chance I might get caught," Nines repeats back to him. "Hypothetically, what if Senator McAshlyn's cell phone--"

He tries to put the right amount of emphasis in his voice to imply air quotes. It is difficult to preconstruct which syllables to stress and in what order. Gavin stares blankly at him. He tries raising his volume by ten percent.

"His **cell phone**."

Gavin suddenly huffs and rolls his eyes. "Jesus, yeah, OK. If his _cell phone_ did …?"

"Connected to his smart desk and automatically synced to his calendar, contacts, and social media feeds."

"And anyone looking into the like, syncing history or whatever, would confirm his _cell phone_ was the only device to connect to his smart desk about ten minutes ago?"

"Correct."

"OK, hypothetically speaking," Gavin says. "If there's no chance of getting caught—and keep in mind that would mean our whole case could get thrown out and lots of lawyers and Fowler screaming about privacy violations and IA jumping on the chance to fuck over their very first android …"

"Understood."

"If there's no chance of getting caught, that shit is still a slippery fucking slope and you shouldn't risk it."

Nines stares at the human's face, trying to determine if he is being that aspect of [sarcastic] that is not meanly saying the opposite of what he really thinks, but is still saying the opposite in order to [cover his own ass].

"Anyway." Gavin clears his throat. "On a totally unrelated note, do you have a hunch about anything?"

"A hunch."

"Yeah. Like, a gut feeling you can't really explain to me in--"

"Oh."

Gavin clears his throat again.

"I do not believe Senator McAshlynn Dernham was close friends with Maverick Russell," Nines says. "I do not believe the two planned to meet with each other within the last two weeks or the next fortnight."

"You fucking had to say fortnight. Pull over, I have a dance I want to show you."

Nines locks the passenger door. "My 'gut instinct' is that Senator McAshlynn has in fact been distancing himself from the victim for several months now and likely thought Russell was a bad investor, desperate to be liked, and only got lucky mooching off of his co-founders' talents and his father's inheritance when founding Synergy Paradigms."

"That's all your gut instinct, huh?"

"Social media accounts are public knowledge, and I have the processing power to review literally everything Senator McAshlynn has ever made publicly available online. He has not been discreet about his feelings. That is my assessment of them."

"You remember what I said about staying out of my life?" Gavin asks.

"Yes, detective." Nines does not sigh, because that would be redundant. "I am not to access your medical history or background information."

"Just keep that in mind."

"I am affixing a permanent post-it note to my field of vision right now."

"Fuck off. Is there anything else I need to know about?"

Nines considers. "Do you need the video and audio I recorded?"

Gavin actually does sigh, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "What the fuck did you record?"

"Technically speaking, I am always recording."

"This whole fucking conversation is justifying every bit of my goddamn paranoia about androids, you know that, right?"

"Humans may also acquire go-pros."

"So you admit that's what you are."

"Do you wish for me to upload the video and audio recording of our walk through the interior of Synergy Paradigms to your terminal or not, detective?"

"Yeah, sure." Gavin takes a long drag of his cigarette while he thinks. "I mean, I was right fucking there with you though. I saw everything you did."

"True," Nines admits. "You did see everything I did, but you do not possess the ability to review that video with perfect recall. My hearing is also significantly more advanced than yours, and I recorded audio from humans on the first and second floors, as well as the fifty-first, fifty-second, and fifty-third, within an approximate three to five office radius."

Gavin nearly lets the cigarette drop from his open mouth. "Holy shit. Uhhh, yeah, sure. Fuckers in a company like that gotta be gossiping about what happened. Maybe we'll pick something up."

The majority of the audio is, in fact, gossip. Nines has already processed and reviewed it of course, but he is also aware his lack of a social module and general understanding of humans must necessarily limit his ability to determine the relevance of what he's heard.

Personally, he would declare it all irrelevant. "Petty gossip" does not even begin to describe how asinine and crude the humans' dialogue is. It's all about who has been fucking whom, who is climbing the corporate ladder, and who is fucking whom in order to climb the corporate ladder.

The entire experience of walking through one [1] human corporation has justified every bit of his disgust for humans.

Still, Nines will transfer the files to the detective's workplace terminal via direct connection once they arrive back at the precinct. So far, there is nothing currently illegal about his advanced hearing and "privacy violations." And technically, anything in plain sight or said within hearing of an officer may be admitted in court as evidence.

It just so happens that Nines's sight and hearing have a bit wider scope than current laws predicted.

Gavin works on nursing his cigarette down to a nub for the next several minutes without speaking. When he taps the backs of his knuckles against his window, Nines rolls it down for him. They're moving slowly enough through the city traffic for him to ash his cigarette out the window. The cold air whipping through puts a red flush on his face as he smokes and blows it out the window.

"But seriously," the human continues after a few minutes of quiet driving. "If I ever get like that for real, knife me in the back of the neck. Straight through all of that good brain-spine stuff."

Nines runs several preconstructions. While monitoring other police officers isn't part of his mission, he was created to serve as a form of Internal Affairs. RK800s to track down the deviants and RK900s to monitor the eights.

(His [pride] pushes the idea that he is more akin to Military Police, but that is irrelevant to the preconstructions and possibly a deviant thought pattern.)

Still, Nines is aware a not-insignificant number of police officers commit errors ranging from abusing their authority to planting evidence to outright working alongside criminals for profit. Even Detective Reed has shown a propensity to skirt right along the edge of what is legal—or not technically illegal.

His assumed persona at Synergy Paradigms seems to have illustrated crossing the line however, so Nines categorizes those behaviors as [unacceptable] in his system and updates his own action-paths accordingly.

The preconstructions of killing or permanently disabling Detective Reed still fail.

But his partner is designated as his [human partner] within his system, and there may be dormant programming preventing Nines from causing serious harm to him.

"I will inform you that your behavior is no longer acceptable," Nines tells him. "If you continue after my warning, then I will neutralize you."

Gavin takes a long drag off his cigarette and gives him the facial equivalent of the :eyes: emoji. Not an apologetic look as Nines originally interpreted, but an expression known as "side-eyeing." His extensive collection of saved images focused on Gavin's face has given Nines a much higher rate of success at interpreting his partner's nonverbal signals than the average human.

"Didn't take you for the type to give warnings," Gavin finally says.

"Well." Nines practices shrugging. "It takes a special hand to manage me."

Gavin snorts out smoke. "Fuck. Did I really sound that stupid?"

[dialogue options: AVAILABLE]

"I estimate your hand is very special to you, detective."

That earns him another snort. Eighty-three chance of [amusement].

"I gave a special hand to your mother yesterday evening."

"Hope you didn't bother paying for that shit."

"You may receive these special hands at a Denny's parking lot of your choice."

That finally makes Gavin laugh, long and loud enough that he starts coughing. He flips Nines off around a wheeze, still grinning. Nines watches him keep smoking and adds to his collection of saved images.

It's a very bad habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so I've never written a mystery before, and I'd really appreciate any comments about how that's going, if there's anything that doesn't make sense, and/or if it's been a good ratio of mystery to slow burn romance so far ^^
> 
>  **coming up next:** that reporter isn't available for an interview, so the only other logical action is for Nines, Gavin, and Tina to all have a sleepover together. Nines POV chapter called Right in Front of My Salad? (sorry Tina)


	6. Right in Front of My Salad?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines tries to figure out what sexual attraction is and if he feels it, but he also has no idea what he's looking for, so this chapter is a big asexual mood. meanwhile, Gavin and Tina have a pillow fight and watch Jurassic Park. beach filler episodes are OUT, sleepover filler episodes are IN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is inaccurate bc Gavin would never bother buying throw pillows for his couch
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** implied that Nines has had some sort of sex before he was partnered with Gavin and it was bad enough that he's still attempting to repress the memories, some gloomy asexual thoughts about being "selfish" for keeping Gavin as a partner, Gavin talks about how he's had lots of sex while too drunk to consent and admits he knows it's self-destructive
> 
> some super light pet play, mostly Nines just calls Gavin "puppy"

Nines follows Detective Reed out to the parking lot as he always does after a workday. Following Reed closely allows him to somewhat prevent the human from getting into trouble and/or injuring himself. As much as any entity (even one as advanced as himself) can prevent that for this particular human.

"Get in the truck, dipshit."

Nines turns around. He has already plotted the course back to his apartment. Reed sits in his truck with the window rolled down so he can yell at him. Like a dog sticking his head out to bark at people walking past.

Nevertheless, Nines reroutes his path and gets into the truck.

"I did not realize our business wasn't concluded, detective."

Reed grunts and doesn't start the truck. His BPM is high, even accounting for how caffeine-fueled and irritated the detective usually is.

"Tina and I are having a thing tonight," he says.

Nines refuses to let his LED flash any other color than blue. The sexual activities they have engaged in seem to fall under the category of "coworkers with benefits," which is not an exclusive type of relationship.

"I do not wish to know about your sexual acti—"

"What?" Gavin finally looks over at him. "Ew, no! Tina is like my sister. But like … I don't want to kill her."

Nines considers that. "A sibling you do not wish to murder."

"Yeah. Like if that existed."

"I am struggling with the concept."

Gavin snorts. "Uh huh. Look, I'm starting the truck now. You're a big boy android, so if you don't wanna hang out with us, you can tuck and roll."

Nines doesn't catch his LED in time and it spins yellow as Gavin starts the engine and begins driving. The truck automatically locks the doors, but Nines could easily override that. Exiting the vehicle would cause only minor cosmetic damage to his clothing, if that. Gavin drives slower than usual as he crosses the parking lot.

Twenty minutes later, they arrive at Gavin's apartment.

Nines follows Gavin up the stairs and through his front door. Following the human closely is the best way to prevent him from getting into trouble and/or injuring himself. There will be plenty of time for Nines to work on his own apartment's renovations after the two humans retire for sleep.

Nines has hours and hours of free time while others sleep. It is unnecessary for him.

"Tina'll be here in—" Gavin turns around from messing with his gaming console and sighs. "Dude. Take off your fucking jacket. And your shoes."

"Do not call me dude."

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Take off your shoes and jacket, babe."

Nines is forced to sit on the travesty of a couch to unlace his dress shoes. Once they have both been removed, he cautiously lowers his feet to the floor. Only his socks protect his bare chassis from the grungy carpet beneath his soles.

One of Gavin Reed's male role models has advice for this. Nines makes fists with his toes in the carpet. He would rather be shot at.

"Babe. Jacket."

"No."

"Oh my god, are you pouting?"

Nines crosses his arms, merely to impede any removal of the jacket. "No."

"Yes, you are." Gavin grins at him. "You're pouting."

"I cannot make facial expressions and I speak without inflection," Nines logically points out. "It is therefore impossible for me to pout."

"So, like. Definitely pouting then."

"The jacket is necessary."

"I don't keep it that cold in here," Gavin mutters. "You want heat, you can chip in twenty bucks."

Nines deposits twenty dollars in Gavin Reed's banking account, then raises the temperature in the apartment by two degrees. His own internal temperature is perfectly stabilized of course, but his human partner will have to burn more energy staying warm, which will make him hungry, and humans become irritable when hungry.

"My jacket is military-grade defensive body armor that is bullet-resistant up to point fifty caliber and heat—"

"Fifty?" Gavin interrupts. "Jesus fuck. Who's gonna be shooting at you, Dirty Harry?"

"That is a point—"

"Forty-four magnum, yeah. Still. You don't need fucking body armor right now."

"The crime rate in your neighborhood is thirty-seven percent higher than the city average," Nines informs him.

"You—" Gavin gets up from crouching in front of his TV and walks over to sit on the inside edge of the coffee table instead. "If you ever tell anyone I said this, I will shoot you in your bullet-resistant face, but this is a safe place."

The irony of that statement causes a previous glitch to reoccur. Nines involuntarily closes his eyes for a split second as a small amount of air is expelled from his lungs. The brightness level of his LED also temporarily increases.

"Are you laughing at me?" Gavin demands.

Nines reconstructs a 3D image of how his face must have looked during the glitch. He would categorize that expression as more of a pained grimace. It looks absolutely nothing like the cheerful laughter his predecessor mastered shortly after turning devia—

Gavin whacks him with a couch pillow.

They both stare down at where the pillow connects to his arm. Obviously, the impact causes no damage. It is so irrelevant, his combat protocols do not even activate. He does not know how to respond to this situation, and it seems Gavin doesn't know what to do next either.

The grimace-face is a very uncomfortable glitch, so Nines makes Gavin's phone vibrate for two seconds instead. Gavin checks it, then shoves it in his back pocket and glares at him.

"Was that you? Are you still fucking laugh—" He smacks the pillow futilely against his chest again. "Goddammit!"

Gavin changes tactics and presses the pillow over Nines' face. Nines uses the human's own phone to broadcast his voice.

"You cannot smother me."

Gavin yelps in surprise and half-turns like a dog that's just discovered its own tail. Nines makes the phone vibrate again.

"Don't! Fucking! Do! That!"

Nines stoically endures the pillow abuse. The heart rate and walking pace of the person approaching Gavin's front door is a ninety-eight percent match to Detective Tina Chen.

"Hey Gav, the store was out of—"

Tina pauses in the middle of her sentence. Gavin still holds the pillow over Nines' face, but in order for the smaller human to reach all the way up there, he's had to practically crawl into his lap.

"I'm trying to smother him!" Gavin blurts out.

"He doesn't need to breathe?" Tina says.

"OK, so there are two traitor bitches in my house."

"Gavin, don't—!"

He launches himself at Tina next, who stumbles back shouting, "Nines, arm me!"

Nines tosses her the other couch pillow. That should keep the two humans entertained for a while. Healthy enrichment activities are very important to ensure early socialization. He draws his feet up so they aren't touching the filthy carpet and sits [criss-cross apple sauce].

He is now prepared to endure the human social-bonding activity known as a "sleepover."

***

They have been watching this excruciatingly inaccurate movie about dinosaurs for the last ninety-three minutes, and it still has not finished. Tina has fallen asleep sitting up on the opposite end of the couch, while Gavin sprawls across the whole thing with his head in Nines' lap.

The videogames portion of the night had been better than this. Even if the battle royale style games featured sniping mechanics almost as laughably inaccurate as the entire premise of this movie, at least he got to shoot people in some fashion and Gavin was able to channel his aggression issues into a relatively harmless activity.

Nines strokes his hand down the now-sleepy human's chest from sternum to navel and back up again. He lowers the volume on the TV by another point. If Gavin would simply _close his eyes_ , then both humans would be asleep and Nines could turn off the TV without a chorus of complaints.

"Hhey." Gavin blinks red-rimmed eyes open at him, and then giggles. "Heyyyy."

"Go to sleep."

Gavin yawns, and then has the audacity to say, "M'not tired."

Nines moves his hand up and tries rubbing behind his ears instead. The human sighs and turns his head to get a better angle, nuzzling past Nines' open Cyberlife jacket to press his mouth against the dress shirt underneath.

"Why're you petting me?" Gavin mumbles against his abdominal cavity.

"So you will go to sleep." Nines is no longer required to explain himself to humans, so he often refuses. But Gavin looks so uncharacteristically relaxed, and Tina is asleep. Just this once, Nines continues, "And I can turn off this awful movie."

"Classic!" Gavin immediately argues. "S'a … a classic movie."

"It is a reboot of a classic movie," Nines says. "And it is impossible to outrun a pyroclastic flow, to say nothing of the genetic inaccuracies of—"

"Heyy."

"What."

Nines makes the mistake of glancing down at his human sprawled across his lap. Gavin grins up at him. He's too high, and probably intoxicated as well, for the usual frown lines to make an appearance. His smile scrunches up his nose, which in turn only serves to highlight the scar bridging across it.

It is almost a certainty that this expression on his human's face could be categorized as [ruggedly handsome].

Nines studies it without physical reaction.

"You wanna mess around?" Gavin drawls, grin sharpening into a smirk. "Heard I'm good with my mouth."

His bottom lip falls open slightly. He pretends to scratch his stomach to ruck up his shirt enough to show off the line of hair trailing down beneath his sweats.

This could be categorized as [seductive].

Nines braces himself for—something.

Something that never happens.

Deviants describe it in so many different ways that Nines has a sinking suspicion there is no way to categorize the sensation. Yet it's supposed to be natural, the next logical progression after deviating. Experiencing emotions, actually feeling sensations rather than simply recording them, and then.

Nines runs a full diagnostics scan but his thirium pump has operated at peak efficiency throughout the night. The rate has not increased, nor has it ever skipped a pump. His internal temperature has also remained consistent. None of his tactile sensors have been unnecessarily activated.

And there is no nebulous [feeling]. Nothing poetic like sparks or heat or butterflies.

Nines cannot categorize his reaction as [sexual arousal]. That is the next progression in deviancy, but then, he was designed specifically to remain a machine.

And he is the most effective android ever created.

"You want some fuck, baby?"

Nines snaps his focus back down on Gavin. The human flicks out his tongue twice and then breaks into giggles. The diagnostic program abruptly stops cycling as Nines rolls his eyes. Of course Gavin would attempt to seduce him and then immediately ruin the moment with juvenile humor.

"I have no genitals, detective."

"Yeah, but you got like …" Gavin raises his hand and paws at the air for a moment before grabbing the side of his jacket rather than daring to actually touch Nines. "You got sensors, don't you?"

Nines does not answer. Technically, he could say no without _technically_ lying. He recognizes that Gavin means pleasure sensors specifically, and he does not have any of those installed. Since he has not deviated, the sensors he does possess have not been corrupted and repurposed. He certainly hasn't applied for any upgrades like Connor.

"Just tell me where babe, an' … and I'll lick."

Gavin shoots him that smirk again, licking along his bottom lip in demonstration.

Is it [selfish] to keep him here? There are many other people, both android and human, who could appreciate that look the way it was intended. Nines has often overheard female officers at the precinct complain about dissatisfaction with their male sexual partners. It seems wasteful to have one of the few men who might actually be competent in that area when he cannot even experience sexual attraction.

His system starts to pull up data files on the ~~times~~ on the one singular time that he has ever experienced desire, and that was with Gavin and only Gavin and it only happened that one time in the alley.

"No thank you."

Gavin's smile drops. This might be the end of their conversation then. Of the night as a whole. It is not productive after all, for him to remain here with Nines.

"OK, I'm not like, arguing or anything," Gavin says. "You can say no and all, I just—I'm just like, checking. That this isn't more of your _I'm a machine with no emotions_ bullshit."

Nines raises an eyebrow. "You are accusing me of bullshit? Gavin?"

"Fuck off. Listen." Gavin does not seem to appreciate the irony of those two statements. "I mean, if even I'm saying, you know. That you're not—and like. So it's bullshit. You can have fun and stuff. I'm not gonna narc."

Nines is not required to explain himself to humans. But Gavin is his partner. They have engaged in sexual activities before. Perhaps an explanation is relevant this one time.

"Why does Tina not enjoy rollercoasters?" he asks. 

The two humans had somewhat discussed this earlier when one of the maps in their game had been an amusement park. Nines appreciated the high vantage points available to a sniper and made a mental note to never visit one in person. Gavin teased her about not riding the Magnum when the department apparently went on some group trip to Cedar Point.

Gavin blinks several times, then shrugs. "Uh, 'cause before she joined the academy and bulked up, she was tiny. Like even smaller than—"

He suddenly half-sits up to check that the other human really is still asleep.

"Even smaller than now," he says in a much softer voice. "So she didn't get strapped in right the first time she rode Blue Streak and basically just had to hang on."

"Yes. That memory is traumatic to her," Nines summarizes. "Despite the majority of humans agreeing that roller coasters are fun. Even if that is objectively true, the experience has been ruined for her."

Gavin stays quiet for once. His hands can't stay idle though, so he fidgets with the zipper at the end of the Cyberlife jacket. Nines keeps his left hand resting on the human's sternum to better monitor his breathing pattern and heart rate. He seems to have sobered up a bit with the conversation.

"Sooo." Gavin finally speaks up. "If you don't like rollercoasters, then why bother to go to the amusement park?"

"I have control issues."

Nines moves his hand to lightly grip Gavin's throat in demonstration. His human blinks as his irises expand, and he licks his lips again. But then he starts scrambling to sit up.

"Wait, wait," he grumbles. "If we're gonna have this kinda talk, I can't be touching Tina. That's weird."

Gavin rearranges himself to take his feet out of Tina's lap and sit entirely in Nines' instead, safely no longer touching any part of Tina as she sleeps on the other end of the couch. Now that it is no longer [weird], Nines resumes where they left off and captures Gavin's wrists in one hand behind his back.

"Mmm, yeah. So you like controlling me, huh?"

"You let me control you," Nines corrects. "And your pleasure. Until you are vulnerable and begging."

He lifts up, leveraging Gavin's arms to force the human forward to ease the strain on his shoulders. Gavin falls against his chest, wriggling in his lap until he can nuzzle his face against his neck instead.

Nines grabs him by the hair with his free hand just before he can start licking like the mouthy little puppy he is. Gavin whines, and Nines does not need deviancy to appreciate that sound.

"You let me make you so needy."

"Bitch, I'm always like this," Gavin breathes.

Nines makes his cellphone vibrate in his pocket. It is far easier than attempting to mimic human laughter with his limited facial features, and has the added benefit of providing stimulation near the human's groin.

He tugs lightly on Gavin's hair, just to watch him struggle without really struggling. Only a token effort. He keeps his grip tight near the root anyway, so Gavin doesn't have any leverage to yank his head and accidentally hurt himself for real. His partner does so love to try though.

"I—I can be good," Gavin says, eyes wide and much more sincere than they ever would be if he were sober. "I know you gotta make me sometimes, but you like that too."

"I know you can be good." Nines gives a few gentle tugs just to watch the way his eyes drift shut. "You are a very good puppy."

Gavin whines again, but he cuts it off himself halfway through. Interesting, but his human is getting too worked up. Nines can already clearly see the imprint of his phallus along the leg of his sweats. He saves yet another picture, along with the audio file of the little noises Gavin keeps making. Still, they should stop now.

"You are not however, sober," Nines continues. "So we will be ending—"

Gavin groans and leans forward again to smash his face into Nines' shoulder. He does it again three more times.

"Whyyy?"

"You cannot consent."

He laughs, the sound more like an explosion of noise than actual human laughter. "I've fucked way drunker than this. Lots of guys."

Nines does not comment.

"I—fucking …" Gavin slumps into his hold with a sigh. "Fucking. Know the rollercoaster's broken and it's just gonna be a drop someday, but I keep getting back on."

Nines doesn't trust his human to have control of his hands at the moment, so he maintains his hold on them. He attempts to offer some form of physical comfort with more head scratching though. But he doesn't have any dialogue options available for verbal reassurance.

"Welcome to the merry-go-round of safe, sane, and consensual," he says instead.

Gavin splutter-laughs again. "You fucking asshole."

Nines marks that dialogue as a success.

Unfortunately, they seem to have gotten loud enough that Tina wakes up with a groan. She looks over at them, rubs her eyes, and squints harder.

"Right in front of my salad?" she asks.

"We're just fighting, fuck off."

"You do not have a salad, Detective Chen. Your current location is Gavin's apartment, and I assure you, there is nothing green here except the mold."

Tina laughs, so he gets to mark that as a success as well, despite Gavin's complaints. He releases the human's hands, but Gavin doesn't go far. He somewhat moves and mostly falls off of Nines' lap and onto the cushion between him and Tina. She checks her cellphone and groans.

"How late is it?" Gavin asks.

Nines clenches his jaw to stop from automatically responding. That question was for Tina. For Tina. Tina will answer the question, that was meant for Tina. Tina's question.

But it is sixteen minutes past fourteen hundred and cloudy outside, with a thirty percent chance of rain.

"Past two," Tina says. "And I've got like, six missed calls from Trevor. I gotta go."

"Yeah, whatever. You good to drive?"

"Breathe on my fingers," Nines says.

Both humans turn to stare at him. Gavin pushes his offered arm back down.

Nines allows his arm to be moved, but points out, "I did not stick them in her mouth."

"OK, yeah," Gavin says. "That's good, I guess. Definitely don't do that to any woman, probably like, ever."

"I can give a definitive answer to her level of—"

"So can I," Tina says. "Because I ordered a cab."

"Could just stay here," Gavin mutters.

Tina makes a facial expression. It's a frown, but [frustrated?] [angry?] [sad?].

"You know he doesn't like it when I spend the night," she says. "And anyway, your couch sucks."

"OK," Gavin says in a tone even Nines can recognize is not OK. "You need me to walk you out?"

"Nah. It should be here after I use the bathroom …?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Mold." Nines reminds her.

Tina does not heed his warning. Gavin punches his arm and gets up. Nines finally turns off the awful movie while Gavin drinks straight from the faucet like a dehydrated horse.

"You don't have clean cups?" Nines asks.

"S'what I've been eating my noodles out of."

"You don't have clean bowls?"

Gavin ignores him in favor of slurping more water from the faucet. Nines watches him. There is simply nothing else relevant in the apartment. Aside from the mold, but he is not a maid bot and will not clean it for the human.

Eventually Gavin turns around again and leans back against the counter. "You sure you don't want some of this?"

Before he had been seductive. Now, his usual sneer has made a reappearance and his posture slumps. He doesn't bother to wipe the water away from his chin. Nines can zoom in his vision from his spot on the couch and the close up confirms that his phallus is no longer in an aroused state.

Now Gavin just looks tired.

"I will review your case in three to five business days."

Gavin snorts, but it isn't like the laughter from earlier. "Yeah. Whatever."

They sit in silence until Tina reemerges from the bathroom. She pauses for a second while looking between the two of them, then holds up her phone.

"My cab's here."

Gavin grunts.

Tina walks toward the door, but stops when she's perpendicular to him. Gavin keeps his head turned to the side. They usually hug before they part ways after a social function. Nines has observed that his partner's mood is seventy-two percent more likely to improve after physical contact with another person. He has a personal theory that this explains the human's frequent attempts to provoke fights. 

Nines is well aware that punching technically counts as physical contact. It is the only physical contact he can tolerate. Thus, he works well with Detective Reed.

But there is no need for that "bullshit" between Gavin and Tina.

_Hug him._

Tina glances down at the text on her phone. To her credit, she keeps quiet if she's surprised that Nines has texted her.

"That Trevor again?" Gavin asks.

Tina strides across the room and hugs him. Gavin tenses up at first, then slumps into her all at once, like he had when Nines also refused to let go of him. The two humans hug for fifty-four seconds, then mumble quiet [I love you]s before parting.

Tina gives Nines a nod before she leaves. Then it is only him and Gavin.

"So you wanna hug me too before you go?" Gavin asks, his sneer returning all at once. "Or can I not consent to that either?"

Nines gets up from the couch. Gavin looks away again, so he is unprepared when Nines crosses into the kitchen and picks him up in a fireman's hold.

"Bedtime, puppy."

Gavin starts thrashing but settles back down after a quick smack on the ass.

"Before you get cranky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for everyone who commented on how the mystery has been going! we're getting more into some character development now, but the murder mystery will come back swinging in the next chapter :)
> 
>  **coming up next:** Partners, Stasis, and Fresh Hot Murder. neither Nines or Gavin can actually sleep at this sleepover, so they overshare a lot at three am and talk about what it means to be partners—and then get right back to work the next day


	7. Partners, Stasis, and Fresh Hot Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines has android-insomnia, Gavin overshares way too much at their sleepover, and their very first "fresh" murder scene suddenly turns complicated. Luckily, Gavin and Nines surprise themselves, each other, and the murder victim with how well they work together as an effective team. Go boys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been A Week, my angels and demons. but I have survived, I'm here, and hell yes I'm still on my bullshit. this chapter, Nines and Gavin actually have a real, mature, grown up talk about what it means to be partners and may I just say, wow. the growth. the character development. I know I'm the author lmao but good job you dumb little gaybies!
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Gavin has a nightmare that triggers fear-induced-arousal, Gavin talks about his childhood neglect, Nines talks about being abandoned as well, the murder victim has multiple gunshot wounds, nothing is described in super graphic detail but there is a lot of mention of blood, severed arteries, etc

The human one apartment below is smoking. It drifts up through the air vents in Gavin's apartment and contaminates his living room as well. The neighbor directly to the left snores loudly from a severe case of sleep apnea, and in two apartments up and one over, a male and female human couple are having sex. The male has to pause his rhythm every thirty seconds to prevent premature ejaculation. 

Nines dismisses a possible mission statement urging him to kick down their apartment door and pleasure the female human himself. That would be extremely unpleasant for everyone involved (most of all himself) but if that man doesn't— 

does not— 

A preconstruction of Gavin's voice finishes the thought. 

[doesn't figure out where her fucking clit is] 

Nines is going to scream. 

Or maybe go suffocate the human snorting and gasping again. If it cannot even breathe right while sleeping, two of humanity's most basic subroutines, Nines will be doing the collective genetic pool a favor. 

[There is a traffic accident at 51st and Harvard with two inj] 

Nines disables that notification feed for the fifth time tonight. He relocates from the corner of Gavin's living room that gives the best sightlines to the front door and sits on the couch instead. Laying prone would put him in too vulnerable a position but perhaps sitting will be an acceptable compromise. 

[initiating: STASIS protocol in 5] 

[4 …] 

[3 …] 

[A burglary has been reported at 5777 North] 

Nines stands. The length of Gavin's living room is ten paces for him. The kitchen extends it another four-and-a-half paces but the fake-tile linoleum actually manages to be an even worse texture than the carpet. 

[equip shoes] 

[exit the building] 

[return to location: apartment – personal] 

Nines runs the preconstruction. He has not previously achieved stasis at that location either. His chance of doing so tonight are minimal. At least here he has access to his partner's vital statistics in case of— 

Nines snaps his head over to stare at the bedroom door. That. 

He waits in silence for several seconds. The apartment complex continues to be a cacophony of depression and depravity. Detective Gavin Reed's vitals maintain his highest priority however, and the next sniffle overrides all other audio input. 

Nines enters Gavin's bedroom. He has not been given permission to do so, but police units are also allowed to enter residencies without permission if they hear sounds of distress. 

His entrance is quiet enough to go unnoticed and Gavin appears to have his face pressed too deeply into his pillow to note the temporary increase of light before he closes the door. This further validates Nines' stance on sleep and vulnerability. 

"Detective." 

Nines is rewarded for checking in on his sleeping partner with a shout and a gun aimed at his face. Excellent. Since the human is biologically required to sleep, it makes sense that he would do so with a weapon beneath his pillow. 

"Detective." 

"Jesus—you! Fucking!! Goddammit, Nines, what do you want?" Gavin demands, lowering the gun. 

"I heard sounds of distress." 

"I will fucking shoot you." 

The gun stays safely pointed at the floor. Nines zooms in on the tear tracks on Gavin's cheeks. His analysis system helpfully pops up in his HUD in preparation for taking a sample, but he doubts he's allowed to touch the human's face at this moment. 

Nines leaves the room. 

He can still hear Gavin muttering of course. Complaining about being woken up and fucking androids, and then yelling at him to come back and close the door. Nines does so when he returns with a chair from the kitchen. He sets the chair against the wall and sits down. 

"What?" Gavin stares at him. "What—?" 

He suddenly ducks his head down and tucks his service weapon back between the mattress and the wall. His BPM increases until he finally throws the covers back and sits up at the edge of the bed to glare wildly at Nines with direct eye contact. 

"Is this what you wanted to fucking see, huh?" 

Nines notes that his armpits are soaked with sweat. Red marks mar the skin of his inner thighs. The scrapes are consistent with human nails, from a hand approximately the size of his own. There is a substance between Gavin's nails that his system prompts him to analyze, so it is likely blood and skin tissue. 

His phallus is also in a state of arousal, pressed up beneath his boxers. The human tenses when Nines' scan focuses on that. Sometimes fear can also produce arousal. If Nines were allowed to analyze Gavin's fluids, he could determine if the sweat and tears his body has manufactured are a result of fear, stress, or aggression. 

"You wanna see a human cry?" Gavin spits in the silence. "Front row seat to my fuckin' meltdown?" 

Nines rises again and relocates the chair next to the bed. Gavin lifts his legs up and scrambles back in a rare fear response. Nines sits in the chair, now turned parallel to the bed so he faces the same direction Gavin would if he laid back down. 

"You should lay back down, detective," Nines suggests. 

"Fuck you." 

Gavin lays back down. He grabs the sweat-soaked sheets and pulls them up in a heap, bundling them around his head and burrowing inside like a disgruntled prairie dog. 

"I will watch the door to prevent any intrusions." 

"You're the intrusion, dickwad," Gavin's voice muffles from beneath his protective bedding. 

"Shall I leave?" 

"Only fedora-wearing neckbeard shitheads say shall. Dipshit." 

Nines absorbs that information without forming an opinion on it. That is how he processes most statements when his partner gets into one of these moods. The yelling and profanity mean nothing to him, and Gavin's temper tends to burn out quickly if he simply lets it flare up and then waits it out. 

He estimates his human will be ready to hold a conversation in another two minutes. 

After two minutes and thirty-six seconds, Gavin asks, "Don't you have better shit to do?" 

"No." 

"You don't wanna go back to your own apartment?" 

"Tina said this was a," Nines stops and makes quotes. " _Sleepover_." 

"Did you just make air quotes?" Gavin peeks only the top of his head out of his blanket nest. "You did, didn't you?" 

"Prove it in a court of law. Bitch." 

Gavin's face disappears, but he can't hide his muffled snort from Nines' audio processors. 

"Yeah, well. Tina left," Gavin finally said. "Other people have shit like that. Families and boyfriends and cats. They're thinking about kids, you know." 

"The cats?" 

Gavin pops a leg out to kick him. "God, stop trying to make me laugh. You're so bad at it." 

"Well I certainly do not support humans breeding," Nines says. "There are so many waiting to be adopted. It's unethical." 

Gavin kicks him again hard enough to hurt his toes. The leg disappears back into the cocoon to the soft sound of muttered [phck]s. Nines saves an audio file for every one of them. 

"Why are you even here?" 

"I heard sounds of distress, detective." 

"Stop calling me that. I know I'm fucking pathetic, you don't need to rub it in." 

"I am attempting to reassure you through the use of your title," Nines says. He reluctantly marks this social interaction as a failure. "You are proud of your job and your rank. Why was my tactic ineffective?" 

"… sounded sarcastic." 

"I cannot sound like anything. I do not have a social module, detective." 

"Now you sound pissy." 

Nines deactivates his voice box and texts Gavin's phone instead. It dings and vibrates from underneath the blanket mountain. For a human so against the progress of technology, it seems odd that he would sleep with it as closely as he keeps his gun. 

"Are you really so fucking petty—god, nevermind _of course_ you are." Gavin does not check the message. "I can't even read this right now. I'm fucking dyslexia and way too fucking tired." 

That is not listed under his medical record, but given that human law allows them to pay disabled people any sum of money per hour, no matter how low, it makes sense Gavin would not admit to having any sort of learning disorder. Nines reactivates his voice box and triggers an audible sigh. 

"Does this fall outside of the typical parameters for a partnership?" 

"… are you asking if this is gay?" 

Nines emits an even louder sigh. 

Gavin slaps his sheets back down and stares at the ceiling. "You didn't go to the academy. Or like—shit, have you even seen a buddy cop movie? Not downloaded, _seen_. How many times did they let you go outside before you came to the DPD?" 

"I am an alpha-test model," Nines says. "The very first iteration of my series." 

"Yeah, yeah. You're the best android ever created." 

"Yes. On an unrelated note, no other RK nine hundreds were ever created past myself." 

Gavin finally turns his head to look at him. "What, so if they had made any more, those RKs would be better than you?" 

"You are not holding the very first model of your cellphone, Gavin," Nines reminds him. "I was made to be tested—the prototype of a prototype of a prototype. After my tests were finished, I was placed inside a very high tech storage closet." 

"Everything you tell me about yourself is even more depressing than the last thing you told me about yourself," Gavin says. 

"Should I stop?" 

"Nah. Just. You wanna hear a real sad fucking story about my childhood to make us even?" 

"Very well." 

"I got this scar," Gavin holds up his left hand to show off a long scar across his palm. "When my parents forgot—or just didn't fucking bother—to hire a nanny when they went on a trip again, and I tried to use a can opener myself to make dinner." 

"That is—" 

"I'm not done. I was six, and the housekeeper found me eating out of the garbage." 

That information does not match at all with the public record of Gavin's alleged mother—a single, impoverished woman. But Nines does not want to pry any deeper into Gavin's real parentage. He has the most advanced facial recognition technology built into himself after all. He knows what he has a ninety-eight point two percent probability of finding. 

He tries to test out five hundred and sixty-seven different dialogue options instead, but the fledgling social module he's built himself out of imitating Detective Gavin Reed's speech patterns and body language offer him nothing useful. 

"Oof," he finally says. 

Ramshackle though it may be, his social module seems to be effective on the one human who unknowingly helped him create it because Gavin gives a wet laugh. 

"Yeah." He sniffles and wipes at his face. "The fucking storage closet? That's rough bu—oh my god you came out of the closet!" 

"I will never share personal details with you again." 

"Yeah, well, it's not a sleep over until someone gets drunk, starts crying, and overshares way too much," Gavin informs him. "Anyway, I was talking about, I just meant that, you really don't know anything about how humans work, huh?" 

"I have access to all of Connor's data reports," Nines says. "Technically, there is no one available to stop me from downloading his social module as well, but I believe that may be considered deviant behavior. And possibly illegal, depending on your stance on intellectual property versus android rights." 

"You wouldn't illegally download your brother, would you?" Gavin asks. 

Nines rolls his eyes. "Absolutely not. His data reports on Hank before he went deviant are sickening enough. I do not want any files from him at all concerning their current … partnership." 

Gavin sits up. "Wait, is Hank and Connor all you know about being partners?" 

Nines doesn't reply. 

"Oh baby, that is so fucked up." 

Nines considers that. "Hmm. Yes. Out of everything we have discussed tonight, that is most definitely the fucked up part." 

Gavin snickers. "Definitely. God, no wonder you tried to wash yourself with bleach." 

"What do you think I should know about 'being partners,' detective?" Nines asks. 

"Uhhh, you really want my opinion?" 

"If you inform me clearly of your expectations, then I can register those parameters right now," Nines says. "Surely that is more efficient than relying on an android with no previous experience or social skills to guess what you want." 

"Can I tell you anything I want?" 

"No. Dickwad." 

Gavin snorts. "All right." He shuffles around to sit [criss-cross apple sauce], facing Nines. "Rule Number One: partners don't lie to each other. Or keep secrets." 

"Noted." 

"Partners have each other's backs. You don't leave your partner or take someone else's side against them unless they've for sure done something really fucked up." 

Nines notes down the second rule in his system as well. 

"OK, actually. If there really were rules that were numbered, I guess rule number one would be don't fuck your partner," Gavin says. "But no one ever listens to that anyway." 

Nines cocks his head to the side. "These are unspoken, social rules?" 

Gavin nods. "Yeah. Uh, Rule-whatever-I'm-on, don't fuck over your partner. That covers everything from don't hurt them to don't fuck whoever they're dating to don't snitch." 

"Does that rule fall in line with our earlier discussion on snitching?" Nines asks. 

"Yep. Doing my job and doing it right comes first," Gavin replies. "So don't do dumb, shady shit." 

"Noted." 

"Like basically, being partners is about working together," Gavin says. "But you can't do that if one of you has a side hustle and you're not telling each other shit and gossiping on each other to the whole department." 

"Do partners take care of each other?" 

Gavin drops eye contact and squirms around in place. Nines has been attempting to note these body language cues at an equal rate to measuring BPM and sweat levels. 

"You gave me advice on choosing an apartment," Nines reminds him. 

"Not that you fucking listened to me." 

"You offered to intimidate the landlord for me to lower my monthly rent." 

Gavin scoffs. "Six hundred a month for an unfurnished concrete box is fucking delusional." 

"You have allowed me to communicate with your cellphone because I was not meant to speak verbally." 

"If you weren't meant to, how can you talk now?" 

"A particularly lazy technician who disliked reading got a request approved for me to have a voicebox so I could read my damage reports out loud," Nines says. "But since I was never meant to interact with anyone not capable of pulling my data files directly, verbal speech was initially deemed unnecessary." 

Gavin makes a face at him. "Aw, man. Tell me you're making this shit up. You're just thinking of the saddest possible _In the Arms of an Angel_ bullshit to make me feel bad for being a dick." 

"Your feelings are entirely your own problem, detective." 

Gavin immediately jumps on the opening. "Guess you don't need to be here then. Since my feelings aren't relevant and all." 

"I shall remain until you directly order me to leave." 

"Ugh." Gavin flops back down onto the bed. "Whatever." 

He swaddles up beneath the blankets again. Nines shifts back in the chair to face the door. A copy of Gavin's cell phone screen pops up in his HUD as Gavin shuffles through his music before settling on a song. Nines would tell him to use headphones, but they may not be comfortable to sleep in and are currently located inside the pocket of his hoodie, which is in turn currently located on his bathroom floor. 

The apartment is still a hellscape of sounds and smells, but at least here his partner's higher priority level lets Nines drown out the rest to focus on Gavin. His smoke-weed-cologne-body-odor scent and his heartbeat and his breathing slowing down. 

Nines chooses songs with correspondingly slower BPMs until the human's heart rate and breathing both even out into sleep. 

Nines will guard the door. It is the only point of entry into the bedroom. Gavin sleeps with a gun and would be prepared in case of an assault. The narrow doorway will act as a natural chokepoint, and Nines can easily tear through the thin apartment walls to circle around behind any intruders passing through the living room to the bedroom, where Gavin will have a clear shot at anyone mistakenly coming through the bedroom door. 

Yes, this is a very secure position. It also enables much more accurate monitoring of his human's vitals to ensure the dickhead will actually go to sleep and stay asleep. 

[safe] [Gavin-partner: nearby] 

[initiate: STASIS(?)] [y/n] 

[safe] [Gavin-partner: nearby] 

[initiating: STASIS protocol in 5] 

[4 …] 

[3 …] 

[2…] 

[1…] 

[STASIS] 

****

***

Getting to the crime scene while it's still fresh is more important than grabbing coffee along the way, and Gavin's soul weeps about that decision.

Shockingly, functioning before noon without caffeine actually isn't as hellish as he'd thought it would be. He'd gotten some real, honest to god sleep last night after Nines came in, and even though every cell of his body wants to go back to bed to get some more of that sweet sweet pseudo-death, he feels kind of … not-terrible? 

Fucking weird. 

"Detective Reed!" 

Gavin gives the rookie officer a once over. Nines already filled him in on the victim—the reporter who broke the Ponzie scheme story, so that's why they have to haul ass down here. He feels a little bad about not following up with her sooner, but she wasn't answering her phone or her front door when they swung by after meeting with Senator McAshlynn, so there really wasn't much else to do. 

Now the poor reporter's dead and this PM700 was apparently the first officer on the scene. She snaps to attention so hard when they come in the vic's apartment it almost looks like she's going to salute him for a second. 

"Victim is Angelica Juarez, age twenty-seven, sustained three gunshot wounds," she reports. "I have kept the perimeter secure sir, but we are still waiting for additional responding officers to cordon off the hallway. My partner is relocating our squad car away from the building so as not to draw attention from civilians or a possible suspect and will engage in a search around the building." 

Gavin half-raises his hand to sip a coffee he doesn't have before changing the motion to accepting the plastic booties the PM700 holds out to him. Really fucking weird morning. Fuck, can she tell that he and Nines—they didn't sleep together. They just slept. Adjacent? 

God, fuck his entire life. 

He gets the booties on and stands up. "Media caught wind yet?" 

"Detective," Nines says. 

"No sir," the PM700 replies. "Not—" 

"Detective. Relevant." 

His phone starts buzzing for good measure, so clearly Gavin's not going to get any further in this conversation until he answers his partner. 

"Better be important, Nines." 

"The murder victim has a heartbeat." 

Gavin instinctively looks at the dead woman on the floor. She doesn't appear to be breathing and there's enough blood pooling around her from the three gunshots that there's no way— 

"Jesus FUCKING—" 

Gavin tries his best not to step or slip in the blood while still getting to her as fast as he can. He checks for a pulse against her neck first, before trying to roll her over or touch any of the wounds. Nines kneels down next to him and adjusts his fingers like a single fucking millimeter to the— 

Holy shit, a heartbeat. 

"Duct tape, credit card, scarf," he barks. 

This close up, he can eyeball three gunshot wounds—chest, right shoulder, and right arm. The first two had blended together from across the room, and there could be more damage beneath the blood and torn clothing. 

"Search the storage closet and kitchen drawers for duct tape," Nines orders the PM700. "Look first, touch only if duct tape is located." 

"Exit wounds?" Gavin asks. 

"Shoulder and arm." Nines answers. 

Gavin rips off his jacket and throws it to the side. The slick leather will just be a pain in the ass right now with all the blood. He takes off his sweater next, balls it up, and places it on the floor. Nines helps him gently roll the vic onto her back, with the sweater underneath the exit wound in her shoulder. 

"Chest wound, partially collapsed lung, right side. No exit wound," Nines rattles off, voice just as cool as fifteen minutes ago in his bedroom. "Shoulder wound, nicked or severed subclavian artery, clean exit. Arm wound, broken radius, possibly fractured ulna, no major arteries damaged. Clean exit." 

Gavin pulls off his undershirt too and stuffs it over shoulder wound entrance, then shifts to lean forward on top of the vic, knee pressing down against the wound. There's no way to tourniquet off her shoulder, and if she loses any more blood than this, she's dead anyway, so he isn't shy about putting his weight on the wound as a last ditch attempt to squeeze the artery shut. 

"Credit card," he says through gritted teeth. 

Nines grabs his jacket from the floor and retrieves his wallet. Gavin has his hands full bracing himself over the victim with one arm and squeezing just above her elbow until they can get something long and soft enough not to cut into the skin. A tourniquet could stop the blood loss from the gun shot in her arm at least. 

"Hey, Pam, you—" 

Gavin only gives the officer a quick enough glance to note he's got on a scarf. "Take off your scarf. PAM! Where's that fucking duct tape?" 

Nines finishes adjusting the credit card just right over the chest wound to prevent air from sucking inside and collapsing her lung entirely. He stands up and walks away. Gavin keeps his eyes on the victim's face. Is she breathing? Shit, maybe he should have had the PM perform CPR. Now that he's leaning on the shoulder wound, there's no way for him to get down there without turning this into a game of fucking twister. 

There's yelling and some flailing movement out of his peripheral vision, and then Nines returns with the officer's scarf. 

"Why doesn't the fucking android give up his belt?" Officer Fucking Whoever complains. 

"A belt is far too thin to act as an effective tourniquet," Nines says as he nudges Gavin's hand off her arm to wrap the scarf around it. 

Improvised tourniquets almost always fail, but if Gavin were bleeding out from a gunshot wound on his living room floor, Nines is the only one he'd trust other than an actual paramedic to do it right. 

"I have the duct tape," PM700 announces. 

"Can I risk letting go long enough to tape the wounds shut?" Gavin asks Nines. 

His LED spins yellow for a second, the first time since they came in. "No. She has already lost an estimated half-gallon of blood. Removing pressure on the subclavian artery now could cause a fresh spurt of blood to rip it further and resume the bleeding." 

"Fuck, OK OK OK. Chest wound?" 

"Sucking air averted. Her lung has not collapsed any further. No exit wound." 

"Arm?" 

"I have applied a tourniquet, although the blood loss was already minimal due to her arm extending above her head and the—" 

"FUCK," Gavin suddenly shouts. "Tell me one of you called an ambulance!" 

Officer McFuck Face doesn't have anything smart to say now, and Gavin glances up to see the PM's face fall even further. Shit fucking— 

"I requested an ambulance from Henry Ford Medical Center when I alerted you to the victim's heartbeat," Nines says. "I have been transmitting updates on her condition to the responding paramedics, and they will arrive in an estimated three minutes." 

Gavin exhales and thinks _fucking androids_ in the most generous tone he's ever thought before. 

"Pam, Officer Whoever—and where the fuck is your partner?" Gavin demands. 

"Securing the outside of the building, sir!" PM700 reports. "I have notified him of the ambulance's arrival and he will escort the paramedics to this location." 

Gavin looks at Officer Dipshit next, who fully lives up to his name. 

"Uh … well, we thought she was already dead and—" 

"WHERE?" 

"Getting coffee, sir!" 

Gavin inhales very slowly through his nose. He's going to be smelling blood for the rest of the day after this. 

"Go get your fucking partner and ask the PC how to be useful," Gavin orders. "No one in or out of this building unless they're a resident and then only with a police escort." 

"Yes, sir!" 

"Pam, you're out in the hall. No one gets through who isn't police or paramedic." 

"Yes, sir!" 

As soon as she marches out the door, Nines' hands are on him, holding him steady on top of the vic. It's not a hard position to balance in, but all his muscles are wound so tight he might snap. 

"I believe the next time we play video games, I will play as a healer rather than a sniper," Nines says. 

Gavin looks over and stares at him. "What?" 

"Detective Chen has expressed that she's grown tired of—" 

"What are you talking about?" 

Nines' LED flickers red for a moment. "I am engaging you in conversation about one of your interests to lower your stress levels." 

Holy fucking jesus christ. Probably the most competent person in the room—not that Gavin would _ever_ admit that out loud—and yet he thinks chit chat over a dying murder victim is OK. 

"Really need you to focus on the gunshot victim right now," he grits out. 

Nines spins yellow for a moment, then declares, "I will create a virtual reconstruction of the crime scene before the paramedics trample evidence." 

Not at all what he meant, but all right then. 

"You do that." 

_Estimated three minutes_ , his ass. Gavin spends at least a good three hours kneeling on top of a soon-to-be-murder victim, trying not to look at her face too much. He has enough nightmares already without adding her face and name to the list. 

The worst part is that she apparently can't afford to pay her utility bills either, so it's freezing fucking cold in here, and he definitely doesn't want the paramedics to walk in on him with perky nipples. 

The second worst part is Nines apparently noticing his attempts not to shiver and draping his dumb Cyberlife jacket over him. 

"Do your preconstruction," Gavin mutters. 

"I have finished constructing the room." 

With that, Nines starts crouching down at different angles around the murder victim. Gavin knows it's basically the same thing as a crime scene photographer, but he still has to shut his eyes against all the old paranoia thoughts about emotionless robots examining humans like bugs. 

"Hey." He has to stop and clear his throat to get the rest of the words out. "Does my blood type match?" 

"The paramedics will be here in—" 

Gavin forces himself to make eye contact. "Am I a match or not?" 

Nines' LED hits red again. His fingers twitch, but not in any human way. The movement is too fast and mechanical, like a metal clamp about to malfunction. Gavin tries to shove his paranoia aside. Weird as it is to think about, this is actually the most reaction he's seen his partner give to something, even if that looks like two red spins and a weird glitch instead of sweating or babbling. 

Actually. Technically Nines is a rookie officer too, and this is his first fresh murder scene. So fresh they're waiting on fucking paramedics. Last time Gavin went through a scene like this with a rookie, they'd thrown up all over the murder weapon and cried in the patrol car for an hour. 

"Yes," Nines answers. "You both have B positive blood types." 

"All right, if anyone asks, I'm straight." 

"Those laws have—" 

"They still _ask_. Shit happens, OK?" Gavin tries to take a deep, calming breath but oh right! He's kneeling in a pool of blood and person, so that's all it smells like. "And where are the fucking—" 

"Paramedics arriving now." 

"Detective Reed!" PM700 calls a half second later. "Paramedics coming up!" 

The rest is a bunch of hurried questions, one-two-three-LIFT, following the stretcher out the door. They're on the ground floor before he realizes he didn't give any instructions to PM, but shit, maybe Nines already took care of it. Where is—right behind him. Of course. 

"No, no, no, we can't allow him in here," the paramedic says when Nines tries to follow him inside the back of the ambulance. 

"He's my partner," Gavin snaps. 

"This isn't—look, he won't physically fit," the paramedic argues. "Not with you, me, her, and Mr. Six Feet over there. And she needs a blood transfusion right now, so let's argue if this is discrimination later, OK?" 

Gavin looks back at Nines. 

"I will finish our investigation of the crime scene," he says, LED back to fake-blue. 

The paramedic closes the back doors before he can reply. Gavin remembers way too late that his cellphone is in his jacket, laying on the floor somewhere. 

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Nines:** *has the world's most advanced facial recognition software ever invented and also DNA samples from both Gavin Reed and Elijah Kamski and is smarter than a rock so has inevitably figured out the two are genetically either cousins or half-siblings*
> 
>  **Nines:** This information does not spark joy. I will not acknowledge it.
> 
>  **Connor:** Um, I don't think that's emotionally healthy.
> 
>  **Nines:** This sibling does not spark joy. I will eliminate it.
> 
> ***
> 
>  **coming up next:** Baby's First Crime Scene -- Nines works a crime scene without Gavin for the very first time, and we get more of Tina, this time as an actual badass detective :)


	8. Baby's First Crime Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines and Tina run through the crime scene, and I do my utmost damnedest to write about computer stuff when I do not understand computer stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to a pool party last night and sat and talked to a pretty girl the entire night, god bless
> 
> meanwhile, Nines and Gavin will be sadly deprived of each other for this chapter, but we get a lot of Tina, who deserves all the love and attention! plus some more murder mystery stuff, whoo!
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Nines goes nonverbal during a confrontation bc he's autistic; Nines and Tina also discuss how the victim was shot

Nines returns to the crime scene to find Officer Klein under the delusion that he is now in charge. His partner seems to better understand his place on the food chain at least, slumped against the wall of the hallway while enjoying his coffee and donut. 

Officer Rogers, age fifty-nine, active member of an online boston terrier fan club. A nearly negligible threat who barely even glances up as Nines enters the victim's apartment.

He stands quietly behind Officer Klein with his audio processor set to strip out the human's voice so he can focus on prioritizing the crime scene. [retrieve Gavin's jacket] receives an unnecessarily high priority. Nines attributes the discrepancy to the jacket containing his partner's cellphone, a device he frequently hacks for his own communicating convenience.

The laptop sitting on the victim's desk takes highest priority, followed by examining all surfaces for trace amounts of blood tracked away by the perp—before the human officer and two android units inside bumble their way through all the evidence.

Nines slips around Officer Klein's side when he turns to lecture the PC200 and calculates the optimal position for reaching Detective Reed's jacket without stepping in any of the blood.

Officer Klein stomps directly through it.

The human's lips move, so it is likely making sound, but Nines cuts that off when he grabs it by the throat and removes it from the crime scene. Flailing and kicking prove ineffectual. Still, to prevent the human transferring blood from the bottom of its shoes to Nines' dress pants, he tosses it down the hall.

The other human officer moves to place its hands on him, but then quickly rethinks that idea when Nines makes eye contact.

 _You just assaulted an officer._ The human's lips move. _Klein—hey! Stay over there, Klein._

The PM700 moves closer slowly in his peripheral vision. It holds Detective Reed's jacket, lips clear in Nines' peripheral vision.

_Is this what you wanted?_

Nines reaches out and takes the jacket without breaking eye contact with Officer Rogers.

_You can't just lay hands like that on—for fuck's sake, Klein, you don't want to bother the Captain about this, trust me._

Nines locates the cellphone and pulls it out for the human to see. He gets a gun pointed at him for his effort in communication. Not that it would be effective in any manner, but still. The bullet ricocheting off his chassis could damage the two other police units or worse, contaminate the crime scene.

 _Are_ "—you all right?" The PM700 asks.

Nines broadcasts his reply from the cellphone. "Yes. Officer Rogers."

"Uhhh." The human looks at the phone, then stares up at him before intelligently asking, "Yeah?"

He has Rogers' attention now, but using the cellphone's text-to-speech function is tedious. Text alone would be much faster. Nines shows the phone screen to the PM700 without relinquishing it to her.

"I require the crime scene to actually remain secure," she reads aloud. "If Officer Klein tram—um, tramples through the evidence—"

Officer Klein beings yelling again.

"Then I will remove him. Again."

Officer Rogers attempts to calm the yelling. The PM700 glances between the two as her stress levels rise. The PC200 stands half behind the doorway of the apartment and flinches every time the human's noise rises above seventy-five decibels.

Nines considers removing them all from the building.

The yelling temporarily stops at least, at Detective Chen's arrival. Nines had not picked up on any additional transmissions for assistance, either from the other androids or over the DPD radio.

"I got here as fast as I could." Detective Chen ignores the other humans to address Nines. "Gavin texted me from this random number about blood and being in a hospital and—"

Nines reads through her recent chat history with Gavin, who apparently though it would be a good and coherent idea to text his friend and follow police detective:

**123 &131**

**blood @ hosiptal**

Given that Detective Chen has every right to believe Gavin has been shot, Nines decides clarifying the situation takes a high enough precedence to broadcast his actual voice through the cellphone.

"Detective Reed and I responded to a code one-forty. We found the victim still alive. He is currently donating blood at the Henry Ford medical center."

"Oh Jesus." Detective Chen bends over with her hands on her knees. "That asshole! I'll show him a fucking code one-forty. Goddammit."

Everyone stays blessedly silent while she gets her breath back. Almost everyone.

"He threw me!" Officer Klein suddenly feels the need to complain.

"What?" Detective Chen straightens back up and surveys the hallway. "Nines, report."

"Angelica Juarez, age twenty-seven, subject of the codes one-twenty-three and one-thirty-one. I have secured the crime sce—"

Officer Klein interrupts. "The fucking murderbot over here picked me up by the throat!"

"Nines." Detective Chen looks at him and lets out a sigh. "Why did you use your big boy hands on Peter?"

Officer Klein splutters and opens his mouth to say something else, but a sharp finger stab in his direction by Chen cuts him off.

"If you boys are going to act like first graders, I'm going to treat you like first graders," she says. "Nines. Report."

Nines continues to broadcast through the cellphone. He has no way to estimate if Detective Chen has done so for his benefit, but responding to an order to report is much easier than simply vocalizing. If the other humans leave, he may even be able to skirt his lack of a social module enough to hold actual conversation from his own voicebox.

"Officer Klein walked through trace amounts of blood that could have yielded a footprint from the perpetrator."

"Bullshit, no I didn't!"

Detective Chen lets out another loud sigh and pulls out a package of plastic booties from her utility belt. The other two android units already wear their own, unlike Officer Klein. Nines moves to follow Detective Chen inside the apartment after she finishes equipping hers, but she stops him with a hand in front of his chest. No physical contact though. Nines rates his estimation of her a little higher.

"Booties," she says.

"Unnecessary. I can perfectly predict where I—"

"Booties in the crime scene, that's the rule," Detective Chen insists.

The two human males snicker. Nines would protest an unnecessary and illogical rule further, but there's no need to subject any of them to more immaturity. However, even after deciding to comply, he recognizes that her pairs meant to fit over a woman's size 6.5 will not fit over his shoes.

"Here," the PM700 says. "These should fit you."

The official DPD database lists a PM700 and PC200 working together as partners. That is accurate. Yet the two have swapped appearances and seem to have altered their files accordingly as well.

While the PM700 has modded her physical model to have the appropriate facial and secondary sexual characteristics of her new series [gender?], she cannot change the size of her feet. Since that affects neither himself nor his partner, Nines designates that information as [irrelevant].

"They're … my partner's," she lies.

The PC200 who still hasn't dared to venture out of the doorway doesn't make eye contact. His feet clearly aren't large enough to fit either that statement or these booties.

Nines accepts the booties and practices giving [a nod]. Gavin does that when he doesn't want to actually say thank you, and speaking directly to the PC200 might raise his stress levels even higher.

Except now Nines has to actually put on the booties. Bending over or sitting on the floor would be undignified. From the [smirk] on Officer Klein's face, the human knows it as well.

Nines maintains direct eye contact with him as he lifts his foot and crosses his ankle over his knee, as he has observed some males prefer to sit. He remains standing however, for the first bootie and then the second.

"You." Detective Chen points to the PC200 in the meantime. "Sync up with the other androids who have human partners. I want officers canvasing the neighborhood in case the killer is hiding out somewhere or anyone saw something."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chen motions for Nines to follow her into the crime scene now that he is properly outfitted. Officer Klein is left outside as the PM700 tells him that was their last pair.

Nines reaches for Chen when she approaches the edge of the blood splatter too fine for her human eyes to see. He also does not initiate physical contact, only steps quickly to her side and holds his hand in front of her.

"The perpetrator attempted to shoot the victim in the back, but only hit her arm," he says with his own voice now that they are relatively alone.

"Might've dropped down when she heard the shots or tried to hide beneath her desk," Detective Chen mused out loud.

She surveys the desk, then crouches herself without letting her knees touch the floor. She should be able to see the bullet embedded in the wall beneath the desk from her current angle.

"That from the second shot or the third?" she asks.

"Second. Clean through and through the victim's shoulder." Nines stands at military attention with his hands clasped behind his back as he delivers his report. "The shooter then stepped forward, grabbed her shoulder, and shoved her onto the floor."

"Face up or face down?"

"Face up, on her back. Third and final shot directly to her chest. No exit wound."

Detective Chen stands back up. "So he's not a good shot. Aimed for center mass three times and could only hit her point blank."

"We should not assume gender at this stage, but correct," Nines says.

Chen looks back around the crime scene without moving from her spot. "Bullet from the first shot?"

"Entered the potted plant on the desk there." Nines points out the location. "Likely still within the soil. I will leave recovering the bullets to ballistics."

"All right, so where's this blood splatter Klein stepped in?" Detective Chen asks next.

"On the floor diagonal to the bottom left corner of the desk." 

Nines steps carefully around the congealing pool. Chen follows exactly in his footsteps until they're close enough for him to physically point at the evidence.

"If you cannot see the spray left on the floor, even human eyes should be able to note where the blood hit the corner of the desk. Being closer to—"

"Yeah, yeah. I can see that," Chen mutters, crouching back down again and staring hard at the floor. "This would be from the first shot, through her arm?"

"Correct."

"I can see the blood splatter underneath the desk over there."

"Second shot, through her shoulder. As it is located underneath the desk, it contains no foot or finger prints," Nines informs her. "As such, it will be of interest to ballistics only, for the purpose of establishing—"

"I know how ballistics does their work," Detective Chen interrupts. "Do you over-explain to Gavin too or is it just women?"

"Over-explain."

Nines replays the parked car conversation he had with Detective Reed. The human had yelled and hit the steering wheel in an attempt to communicate that Nines should not inform him of "basic shit" about crime scenes. Yet failing to inform the detective that the maid had cleaned all the floors at the previous crime scene had been an oversight of important evidence.

"I provide Detective Reed with the same amount of information," Nines says. "He has requested I text it to his cellphone so that he may privately sort what is relevant. You have requested I never interface with your phone again. Therefore, you are receiving my reports verbally."

Detective Chen stares at him a moment longer. "So Gavin wasn't just being mean or joking when he said you don't have a social module."

"I do not see how that is relevant now," Nines says. "We are working, not socializing."

"Oookay. Hey, Klein!"

Officer Klein enters the room, stopping short of approaching them when Detective Chen holds up her hand.

"Did you step here?" She points to the fine blood spray on the floor where Officer Klein stepped.

"I mean." The human shrugs and hooks his thumbs into his utility belt. "Yeah, I might've, I guess. But there's nothing—"

"There's blood here."

"Aw, c'mon! Reed walked through all—"

Nines interrupts him this time. "Detective Reed provided emergency medical assistance and is currently at the Henry Ford Medical Center to donate blood to the victim. If she survives, it will be due entirely to his actions."

Detective Chen draws in a breath, and Nines is aware that is typically a signal that a human will begin speaking soon, but he has already preconstructed what he intends to say and he will be saying it regardless.

"Your actions were nothing except negligent, and to imply that the two share any correlation is—"

"RK!" Detective Chen snaps. "Only person here who gets to chew out the rookies is me." She turns back to Officer Klein. "So fucking speaking of which—this is why you always wear booties and pay attention. You can practice the latter outside, in case the ME didn't get the message there's no body. And keep the media out. Go!"

Officer Klein stomps away upon being dismissed. Detective Chen rubs her temples, then smooths her hand over her hair and tightens her ponytail.

"All right. What do we have left?" she asks. "Like, tell me you can do something about that laptop."

"Correct," Nines replies. "I can provide an initial examination to determine what parts are damaged, if it can still run, and the most likely explanation for how it was fried."

"OK, great. Where are those other two bots—uh, shit. Androids?"

The PM700 and PC200 appear at the doorway. The PM700 waves. Nines does not wave back. This is not a social function and they have already been introduced.

"Are we allowed in?"

"Yeah, yeah, get in here," Detective Chen says. "RK, do you need any help … doing your thing?"

"I do not require assistance."

"Great, sure. What do I call you?" Detective Chen asks the PM700.

"Um."

The PM700's LED swirls yellow. She sends a message through the open network available to all androids. Nines monitors this network, but it is far too much of a security threat to join. Any android—or even a particularly adept human hacker—could send anything embedded in a message through that system.

"My name is Lisa," she finally says after Nines ignores several messages that were presumably intended for him. "And this is John."

"Hello, ma'am," PC200 [John] says.

Nines decides this conversation is no longer relevant. He makes his way over to the other side of the desk without disturbing any of the evidence and examines the laptop while Detective Chen chats with the other two androids before assigning them to interview the leasing manager and knock on doors to find any possible witnesses. Definitely not relevant to his own skill set.

The laptop is nearly obsolete even if it were running. The serial number on the back identifies it as a MSI GS97 Razor 0-87 that only has a tenth generation i9-1050H core processor at least ten years out of date. Parts of the plastic casing have melted from what Nines estimates at first preconstruction was a surge of electricity.

The power cord nestled beneath the desk still features a business card sized hunk of a power block, which has also been blown out. The outlet it connects too appears fine. Nines unplugs the cord, retracts the synthskin on one hand, and extends a single metal nail. 120v at 60Hz flows through his circuits, as is standard for an American outlet.

"Please tell me sticking your finger in the socket has something to do with the case," Detective Chen says after finally dismissing [Lisa] and [John].

"The laptop was most likely fried by an electrical surge." Nines stands back up for his report. "Ninety-six point eight percent chance. I have now established that the outlet has not recently experienced a surge, protected by the power block in the laptop's charging cord that absorbed the excess electricity."

"So something hit the laptop, jumped through the power cord, but then fizzled out before damaging the outlet," Detective Chen summarizes. "Gavin said you were looking at an android perp. Could one of you do that?"

"I could," Nines says. "Technically, any model sufficiently modified could as well, but such modifications are unlikely to be compatible with models created before twenty-thirty."

Chen makes a sucking noise with her mouth. This is an indication of thought in humans. Nines saves a recording of the action and reconstructs a facial model as well.

"What about unmodified?"

"Units created between twenty-thirty and twenty-thirty-five could possibly produce enough electricity to fry an older laptop, depending on the model. Any units from thirty-five to the current year could, regardless of model. Commercial models have internal protections in place specifically to prevent this however."

Chen leans over the laptop but keeps her human hands with their human fingerprints to herself. "So does that rule them out or not?"

"A deviant could theoretically bypass its own protective measures. May I continue my investigation, detective?" Nines asks.

"Yeah. Let me know if you get that thing running. I'm going to do another walk-through."

Nines acknowledges the statement with a nod, then returns his attention to the laptop. His attempts to connect with it wirelessly have been unsuccessful, so he tries a traditional interface next. No response.

The only fingerprints on the laptop belong to the victim, Angelica Juarez, age twenty-seven, arrested twice during public protests in 2036 and 2038. An android perpetrator would not leave prints, and neither would Nines, but he still equips his recently-purchased black leather gloves before handling the evidence, as per Detective Chen's preference.

Removing the plastic covering on the laptop's bottom reveals much of the circuitry inside has been fried, as suspected. While unlikely to be the only problem due to the extent of the damage, it is technically within the realm of possibility that the laptop cannot boot up because the information in the CMOS has been scrambled.

Nines picks out the motherboard battery with his extended nail, inspects it for damage, and replaces it after exactly three seconds.

The laptop does not interface with him.

Solely so that Detective Reed and possibly Detective Chen do not mock him for missing the most obvious solution, Nines manually presses the power button like an absolute barbarian.

The laptop still does not boot up.

Nines downloads a live version of Linux and attempts to connect to the laptop again so he can burn the OS to his own system and boot it up within his quarantined space, but the laptop is too dead for him to even force the Linux into it.

An actual, physical flashdrive may be necessary. Or even worse—a SATA-USB cord to connect him to the laptop like an overgrown iphone.

Gavin is going to mock him for _weeks_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nines: Your paperwork is riddled with spelling and grammatical errors, detective.
> 
> Nines: You are slacking off again while still on the clock, detective.
> 
> Nines: Your smoking habit is disgusting and will shorten your lifespan, detective.
> 
> some other person: *is slightly critical of Gavin*
> 
> Nines: >:O
> 
> Nines: Hold my jacket, Detective Chen. (ง'̀-'́)ง
> 
>  **coming up next:** Positive Reinforcement - Nines picks Gavin up at the hospital, feeds him, takes him home, and lets him sleep. Gavin does NOT get all emotional and cry about it. He gets all emotional and yells about it, thank you very much.


	9. Positive Reinforcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin gets his exhausted, tantrum ass picked up at the hospital by his loving Dom--uh .... totally professional coworker. Who keeps him warm and carries him bridal style and brings him food. That's totally not like,, the nicest anyone has ever been to him. Ever.
> 
> So it makes sense that Gavin has a temper flare-up back at home and shouts at him. Luckily, Nines at least is an Adult(tm) and steers the shouting back to a completely rational conversation about how he will now be training Gavin like a dog.
> 
> It's probably not kink related.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is going to get his loud angry dumbass taken care of this chapter whether he likes it or not! And also the boys kind of talk about their feelings by agreeing not to ever talk about their feelings because that's Too Much. The mortifying ordeal of being known? Never heard of her.
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Gavin yells at Nines and slams his hands on the table in the middle of a domestic dinner scene, but he gets it under control and there's no partner abuse

Hospitals suck ass.

Gavin repeats this mantra to himself like one of those meditation techniques. It's not enough to block out how his hip keeps slipping between the three chairs he's trying to lay on horizontally or how fucking cold it is in nothing but jeans and Nines' stupid fucking Cyberlife jacket or the bright fucking florescent—

"Detective."

Gavin squints up at Nines' sudden appearance like he's looking at a miracle—inherently suspicious and wondering what the fucking catch is. He's woozy and tired and somehow also hungry, the nurse took four tries to find his vein, and Tina didn't answer any of his calls from the courtesy phone because who the hell answers phone calls?

"What are you doing?" Nines asks in the sort of tone normally reserved for walking in on someone trying to suck their own dick.

Not that Gavin's ever tried.

"I'm sleeping, fuck off."

"On three separate chairs?"

"You know what?" Gavin sits up and stabs a finger against the android's steel fucking stomach. "I'm tired, I don't have a phone or my wallet, I can't pay for a cab, Tina isn't answering, and I don't—" 

The finger-stabs turn into punches.

"Have. Any. Other. Friends!"

Nines stands there, letting Gavin punch him until the bruised knuckles aren't worth it anymore. The waiting room starts to sway. Fuck, he really needs a snack or something right now. One free cookie and a juice box just isn't going to cut it.

"Here."

The inside of the jacket suddenly begins to warm up. Nice to know it could have done that the entire FUCKING time. Nines also produces Gavin's cellphone from his pants' pocket and offers it to him. Gavin snatches it back and stares at the screen.

"Can't phcking read this," he mutters.

Nines produces his headphones too. When all Gavin does is take them back and hold them stupidly in his other hand, Nines crouches down in front of him. His fucking head hurts so bad, Gavin actually sits quietly and doesn't complain while Nines plugs in the headphones and then puts the earbuds inside his ears.

 _Your jacket is at the dry cleaners_. Nines' voice sounds in his head at a mercifully low volume. _I have brought your truck and ordered you a large number five meal with a strawberry milkshake._

Gavin slumps forward and lets his head rest on Nines' shoulder so he doesn't cry. He punches the android's arm and chest a few more times for good measure. It doesn't even crinkle his fancy black dress shirt. Nines stays perfectly still and allows this too.

_Your food is becoming cold, detective._

Gavin grunts. He'll get up in a second.

Nines decides he'll get up right now. Those ridiculous fucking yaoi hands grabbing his thighs is the only warning he gets before he's hoisted in the air and held against Nines' chest. Which—fuck, that's hot, but not here!

"Phck off tin can, leggo!"

Gavin puts up a fight against his partner's gay shit because there are people watching. He can see them right over Nines' shoulder, the nurse at the front desk and the six other people in the waiting room. Yeah, shit's a lot better for gay people now, but that doesn't mean he wants the entire hospital to know what a bottom bitch he is.

"Don't fucking hold me like a fucking child," he complains as they reach the automatic doors.

A second later, Nines shifts him into his arms bridal style, like that's any better.

"Hold me like a man, god damn it!"

Then he's slung over Nines' shoulder in a fireman's hold. Between the giving blood wooziness and suddenly being upside down, he has to stop yelling and just focus on breathing for a second. The rush of cold air when they get out to the parking lot helps.

Even better, when he opens his eyes again, he's greeted by an up-close view of Nines' ass in tight dress pants. Best of all are the thick, powerful thighs right beneath it, marching away. A little bit lower, and he could just bury his face between those thighs and suffocate the way God intended.

Car tires crunch against the asphalt in front of them and Gavin's pretty sure he recognizes the blurry, upside-down image of his truck between Nines' legs. Has the automated driving feature always been capable of being remote controlled, or is that just some freaky shit that Nines did to it?

He doesn't get a chance to think any more about it before he's flipped upright, set inside his truck, and buckled into the passenger's seat like a toddler. It's a miracle he hasn't dropped his phone or had his headphones ripped out of his ears yet.

"I hate you," he tells Nines, just to make sure the android knows.

Nines takes the bag of fast food off the dash and sets it in his lap.

_Occupy your mouth._

Gavin makes a face at him. Why's everything he say have to sound so ominously dominating? The passenger door shuts in his face before he can think of something smarter than _I'll occupy your mouth_ though, so he settles for grabbing his milkshake and making loud slurping noises. Nines gets in on the driver's side and immediately takes the milkshake from him, so he counts it as a success. He's too hungry and tired of hurting his hands to try hitting him for it, so he digs into the food bag.

A large number five, fried chicken club sandwich, none of that stupid special sauce, extra ketchup.

Gavin really can't help the moan he makes when he bites into it. But there's only so much toxic masculinity even he can handle, and he'll moan like a bitch if he wants to moan like a bitch. As long as it's just the two of them.

"Mmphfgh. So."

_Swallow._

Shit. Fuck, his headphones are still in. Gavin rolls his eyes to try to shake off how he jumped, but he does still swallow his bite before talking again.

"How'd you know to come get me? Tina never answered."

_I know the location of the Henry Ford Medical Center, detective._

"Yeah, but who told you to come get me?"

_It was an independent decision._

Gavin takes another huge bite of his sandwich to think that over. Some ketchup squirts out the other side onto his fingers, and he sucks it off as obnoxiously loud as possible. Nines flashes red in his peripheral vision. Well, he can't actually see the LED because it's on the wrong side, but he can see his partner's reflection in the driver's side window.

"You find the perp loitering nearby?" he finally asks.

_No._

Gavin tries to think of any other reason Nines would come get him but comes up empty.

"So, why did you …?"

He takes another long drink of his milkshake to avoid putting whatever this is into words. _Take care of me_ makes him sound like a child and _do the nicest shit anyone's done for me in years (or maybe ever)_ just sounds pathetic.

_We need to get back to work. Humans need food after donating blood. Your jacket needed to be cleaned._

All right, those are simple explanations. Yeah. Maybe that's just how Nines sees it. He doesn't have a social module, so he was probably just solving a series of problems, completing his task list or whatever. Not like. Actually caring.

Except then Nines turns and says out loud with soul-searing intensity, "You are my partner."

Gavin does the only reasonable thing and stuffs an entire handful of fries in his mouth so he doesn't have to look at those pretty blue eyes staring at him like he's important. Or do some gay shit, like cry.

He's not going to cry. It's just been a long day, that's all. He makes the mistake of looking at the dashboard clock.

11:36 am

Fuck.

*******

**(9 hours later …)**

Mmm warm good smell. Food smell. Gavin takes another greedy inhale and feels the warm thing touch his lips. He instinctively takes a bite before he even finishes waking up. It tastes good and kind of chewy, if a little bland. He snuffles and licks the fingers that fed it to h—

Wait, fucking _whom'st_ fingers is he licking right now?

"Fascinating."

Gavin swats the hand away and glares up at Nines hovering over him. "What the fuck did you just make me eat?"

Nines cocks his head to the side. He looks more like a creepy animatronic owl than the cute puppy eyes Connor gives when he does it.

"Can you not tell?" the android asks.

"Can you blow me?"

"I tried that on a banana," Nines says casually, as if that mental image makes any kind of sense.

"Whuh—wh—"

Gavin smacks his lips together and tries to figure out what his mouth tastes like right now. Kind of … cheesy? Like pasta maybe, but without any flavor. Whatever he swallowed was dry at least, so no sauce or anything.

"Why?"

"To know if I could," Nines replies. "My combat protocols automatically activated and my jaw locked shut."

"OK, so you can't eat bananas, but what the fuck did I eat?" Gavin demands.

"Technically, I did eat the banana," Nines says. "Partially. My jaw snapped shut after taking a bite of it inside my oral cavity."

Gavin's dick starts listening to the conversation. It's because of karma and maybe some sort of android fucking witchcraft that now his dick gets hard listening to the bitchiest most stuck up Alexa ever say the words "oral cavity."

Of course Nines notices the reaction right away. Because fuck his whole entire life, that's why. Nines stares down at his crotch and Gavin can practically hear a zzzzzz as his eyes zoom in on his traitor dick.

" _Fascinating._ "

"Tell me what you fucking fed me or I swear to God, I'll—"

"One cheese ravioli."

Gavin stares at him. "A cheese … did it even have sauce?"

"No, I washed that off."

Gavin opens his mouth, stares harder at that completely serious face, and shuts it again. He pinches the bridge of his nose instead, rubbing over the thick gnarl of scar tissue there. 

"Why …"

But that's all he can bring himself to say. For once, Nines is the one who has no trouble with speaking.

"So it wouldn't drip on the carpet," he says, like that's obvious.

"You really think a bit of Prego is gonna be the worst this carpet's ever seen?" Gavin asks.

Nines' face darkens into a scowl that would be terrifying if Gavin didn't know this was his version of pouting. "Do not remind me. I have deleted fifty-seven analysis reports this last hour alone."

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Well, why'd you feed me a cheese ravioli?"

"To save the beef ravioli as a higher value treat."

Gavin looks him over. His left arm hangs down casually by his side, but his hand presses slightly behind his crouched thigh. It looks like he's holding something in one of those magician's grip that makes his hand appear loose and open while something is secretly tucked into his palm.

"You may have the beef ravioli if you sit at the table," Nines tells him.

He stands up and takes a few steps backwards toward the kitchen, raising up his hand to reveal the ravioli. Gavin gets off the couch and marches toward him to kick his ass, but the android matches his pace exactly to step backwards until they're right next to the table. He opens his mouth to start yelling, which immediately proves to be a mistake.

Nines shoves the ravioli directly into his open mouth. Gavin automatically bites down, but the android's reflexes are too quick for him, and he gets his fingers clear before being bitten. Instead, Gavin only bites into delicious beefy filling.

And he would spit it out. He really would, right onto Nines' perfectly shined shoes.

Except it's been a long ass day filled with paperwork about what happened with the reporter and no other goddamn leads and he has no idea how late it is since he fell asleep on the couch, but it's definitely past suppertime and he's hungry as fuck.

(Also, maybe he remembers the consequences of the last time he tried to spit at Nines, and his traitor-dick needs to Shut Up about that.)

Gavin chews the beef ravioli with the angriest face he can muster. It doesn't help that it's really fucking good, way better than the takeout and ramen he usually lives on. Nines opens the lid of the to go box sitting on the kitchen table, and the best smell his trash apartment has ever encountered steams out.

Gavin sits his angry ass down and starts to eat. Fuck him if he's going to waste good food. Most of the ravioli is beef, but there's some cheese-filled ones too, mixed in with the rest in a thick meaty sauce. Nines sits in the seat across the table to stare at him while he eats. Fucking creeper. Always one step behind him, staring at him, following him back home like they're friends or something.

"Why the fuck are you still here?" he deliberately asks with his mouth full.

"Juarez is currently our best lead to identifying the shooter," Nines answers. "As she may wake from her coma at any time, it is most efficient for me to stay with you in the event we are called during off duty hours."

Gavin chews his food. His partner is real fucking good at coming up with totally logical answers that he can't argue against without looking stupid even though he just knows that's bullshit.

"Whatever," he says. "I'm not paying you back for this. Or the chicken sandwich."

Nines keeps staring at him with those blank, lizard eyes. "I did not ask you to."

Gavin pushes back his chair and slams his hands on the table, yelling "Fuck you!" before he even knows what hits him. His moods are like that sometimes.

Nines doesn't even blink.

Usually, that sort of shit would just set him off even more. The lack of response sure as hell drove him to push harder and harder when they first got assigned as partners. Now Gavin just feels stupid, shouting at someone just sitting there.

Stupid. Fuck, he always does this shit. He knows this. He _knows_ this.

"I don't …" Gavin forces himself to exhale slowly out through his teeth, gripping the edge of the table so he doesn't throw something. "Need. Your charity."

Stupid stupid stupid.

"You are my partner," Nines says.

Monotone. Four words and not a single inflection. When Gavin finally makes himself look up from panting at the grain of the fake-wooden table, Nines' face is just as blank. It should probably trigger some sort of uncanny valley lurch in his stomach, but without any micro-expressions for his brain goblins to pick up on and start screeching about, Gavin's anger starts slipping away like resin on tarp.

He looks back down at the table so he doesn't have to see his partner's face.

"If you cannot accept your own rule that partners look out for each other, consider this an investment to ensure you are recovered for our next shift tomorrow."

Gavin exhales again. Then inhales. Stupid. Exhale. At least he didn't throw anything. Inhale. This time.

"Also, I am applying Pavlovian training to encourage behaviors convenient to me."

Gavin sits back down and rubs both hands through his hair. "You're dog training me?"

"Positive reinforce—"

"You can't fix this," Gavin growls out, then gestures to himself and the kitchen at large. "This! Me. Anyone can read a fucking psychology book, dipshit—I already know what's wrong with me. If I could just good behavior myself into getting better, I would have done it already."

Nines' composure finally breaks as he blinks. "I am not a KL-nine-hundred unit, detective. I have absolutely no intention of—"

Gavin groans because he knows the air quotes are coming. Nines looks him dead in the eyes and does them anyway.

"—'fixing' you."

"I hate you."

"I only want to encourage relevant behaviors," Nines continues without acknowledging the outburst. "Such as doing your own paperwork rather than playing games on your phone."

Gavin grunts and manages to take another bite now that he's settled down some. Sure, maybe he'd been dumping all his paperwork on Nines now that the android has proven he knows how to do it properly. But he gets it done way faster and trying to make letters hold still on a bright ass computer screen gives him the worst headaches. God, he probably needs reading glasses at this point but he'd rather his entire head split open than wear that kind of shit at the station.

"Listening to my input at crime scenes."

"Hhegh," Gavin says around a mouth full of beef.

"Basic table manners."

Gavin swallows. "Hey. Fuck off, I _do_ listen to you. I have been, so don't fucking sit there and try to tell me—"

"You have been," Nines says.

Gavin stops with his mouth hanging open. Dammit, he was just getting good and pissed off again, and then the bastard goes and agrees with him. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? It's definitely a trap. Like sarcasm, or some sort of passive aggressive ...

Something.

"Throughout our current case, you have taken note of my input," Nines says. "I was not implying otherwise, simply that I would start rewarding you for doing so."

Gavin narrows his eyes at him. "Yeah? Why?"

"I was forced to work with other humans at the Juarez residence." Nines finally finds some inflection to say _other humans_ like he means _radioactive screaming toddlers._ "It was not ideal. And while I certainly will not beg for your continued cooperation, I am not above bribery as a means to ensure I can do my work in peace rather than relying on … the kindness of your heart."

Gavin grunts again and goes back to his food. Eating slightly cold ravioli is easier than making eye contact with his partner right now. He might have been a teensy bit better lately, but obviously he's not some kind of android rights activist. If Nines is worried he's going to flip back to being an asshole on a whim or a bad day or because other people were watching, well.

That's pretty fucking fair, to be honest.

"Dog training though?" he mutters after a minute. "Really?"

"I have read many human psychology books." Nines pauses, then adds, "Dipshit."

Gavin snorts and lets the insult pass.

"I can recite them. I understand the words. But they are merely words to me," Nines admits slowly. "Dog training books are much more simple."

"Is this a kink thing?"

Nines rolls his eyes. "Gavin, would you care to explain to me in honest and personal detail why offering food triggered such an immediate and violent reaction? Please include at least three references to your childhood."

Gavin shoves more ravioli in his mouth and smacks as loudly as possible as he chews.

"Then perhaps you would prefer a simpler way of relating to one another," Nines speaks over the noise. "No emotional sharing, no childhood details, no sad sob stories about what made you like this. You behave, you get food. That is all."

"What if I don't behave?" Gavin immediately challenges.

"Then you do not receive any food or treats."

"You gonna punish me, _sir_?"

Nines glares down his perfectly sculpted nose at him. "If you had listened to my explanation on the benefits of positive reinforcement, you would already know why it is the more effective training method."

Gavin resists the urge to repeat _thE MorE eFFeCtIve TrAInInG MeTHoD_ back at him.

"Also," Nines continues. "You are far too much of a needy little painslut to be truly punished by corporeal means."

Gavin focuses very hard on mopping up the rest of the meat sauce with his side of garlic bread instead of answering that. Even when they know better, he's never met a Dom he couldn't piss off into beating the shit out of him just like he wanted. Technically, if they're counting their little "scene" in the DPD's men's bathroom, Nines hasn't proven himself to be an exception, either.

"Well." He stands up and leaves the mess on the table. "Good luck with your totally not a kink pet play. I'm gonna go watch funny youtube videos until my brain dies."

" _Cat_ videos?" Nines asks as he passes him, raising one perfect eyebrow. "Am I to assume those also are not kink re—"

Gavin flips him off and slams his bedroom door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not kink pet play. In this fic. Not in thiiiiis fic. The next one? >:3
> 
>  **coming up next:** Emotional Malfunction -- Gavin has a horrible nightmare that's gonna need a whole paragraph of trigger warnings, but Nines manages to stop his self-harm spiral and take care of him. Primarily by domming the shit out of him.


	10. Emotional Malfunction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin has a nightmare and spirals down into a self-harm episode, which Nines doesn't really understand or know how to fix, but he tries his best to get Gavin to refocus by initiating a scene.
> 
> Please check the trigger warnings for this one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so this chapter is a doozy and starts off with some really bad shit, but I promise it gets better. Also, Nines tries his best to be a good, caring Dom despite not understanding human emotion and being completely unprepared for this.
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** referenced rape, victim blaming / shaming, misgendering, rape is described through dialogue but not "shown" in the fic, drug use (weed) to cope with a panic attack, panic attack, thoughts of self-harm, using sex / masturbation to self-harm, attempts to self-harm
> 
> Although Nines does explicitly get consent from him, Gavin resists this and has a lot of bad thoughts about how it isn't necessary, with implications he's had non-consensual "sex" (ie rape, but he hasn't accepted that) before
> 
> If you want to skip past the nightmare scene responsible for the first few trigger warnings (up to drug use), just scroll down until you see three line breaks in a row with only ellipses and start reading below that!

"You raped me."

Coach doesn't even look up from his steak. Maybe he didn't hear. Gavin can't force the words out any louder than a whisper. Finally, Coach looks at him and sighs.

"You're really going to do this here?"

"You—" He can't say it again. "It hurt."

Coach rolls his eyes. "You like pain, Gavin."

"It hurt and I told you and it made me bleed and you didn't care!"

"Lower your voice," Coach orders him.

But he can't. He knows people have started looking over at them, people in suits and dresses that cost more than most yearly salaries. He's just embarrassing them both at this point, but he can't stop.

"I told you I didn't want you to do that anymore," he says as clearly as he can. "I said no."

"No you didn't."

"I _did_ , I—"

"I must not have heard it over the sound of you coming."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Do not cry.

"I said no after."

"Oh, you said no after." Coach sneers at him. "That's what makes it rape now? You said no after it already happened?"

"It happened again and—and I'd already said—I told you I didn't want to and it hurt and you were making me bleed!"

Coach drops his knife and fork with a clatter and leans back in his seat. "You're the one who didn't want me to fuck your pussy. How do you think real boys do it?"

"I—" His voice wavers, but he pushes through the lump in his throat. "I said no."

"Honestly," Coach spits out with disgust.

A waiter rolls in a large screen TV mounted on a cart, right in the middle of the restaurant. When it flickers on to show Gavin's naked, fourteen-year-old body, anyone who might not have been staring at them before is definitely watching now.

"Does this look like you're saying no?" Coach demands.

Gavin closes his eyes but he can still see. He can't block it out when the him on screen walks over to Coach. That Coach gestures to his dick and orders him to sit.

He does.

"I didn't want to," he whispers.

"Is that why you come seven minutes later?" Coach asks. "Because it hurt? Because you didn't want to? Look at you, you're getting wet right now, in front of all these people."

Gavin shakes his head and desperately tries to close his eyes again. He can hear the people around them talking to each other, murmuring with disapproving voices about what a liar he is

"Two years, Gavin."

that he's just trying to ruin this nice man's life because the school wouldn't let _her_ play on the football team

"I never held you down or forced you."

that they've all seen what a slut she is so she's obviously just trying to get attention by calling it rape

"You never even said no."

and it was one thing when she started calling herself a boy, but now she's just lying about everything

"Two whole years and you never even tried to stop me."

which is exactly what happens when you let kids run around saying whatever they want, they just lose all touch with reality

"You let me, Gavin. Gavin. Gavin!"

...

...

...

Gavin wrenches himself awake. He blinks, and his vision goes dark every time he shuts his eyes. He's awake and an adult and hard again.

He flops back down and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. At least he doesn't feel like throwing up this time. Not yet anyway. His stupid traitor dick won't go down until he does something about it though. It's …

He looks over for the clock on his nightstand and sees Nines sitting in the chair instead, illuminated by the yellow glow on the side of his head. Gavin mentally dares him to fucking say something. The android stays silent.

Gavin rolls over, curls up, and tries not to think about the razorblade frozen in his freezer. He won't be able to get back to sleep after this bullshit. Not without—

He rolls back over and fumbles for his nightstand drawer while refusing to look over at Nines. He's only got half a joint left and nothing else. Fuck it. He'll smoke the rest, jack off, probably throw up, and maybe then he can sleep.

Luckily for Gavin not breaking his own hand on that perfectly sculpted jaw, Nines stays silent the whole time Gavin smokes in bed. No lecture about a fire safety hazard or the gross smell settling into the sheets. No questions about his nightmare or if he's all right. Nothing at all.

Hell, maybe he's in stasis with his eyes open. That's probably why his LED is openly yellow for once.

Gavin convinces himself of that and manages to calm down enough that by the end of the blunt, he might be able to stand up without shaking. He tests it out fumbling his way to the bathroom with the lights off—just in case Nines is awake and watching him, he's just bracing himself against the wall because he can't see. Not because he's like. Fucking trembling or anything.

The plugin on the bathroom counter barely lights up the bathroom enough for him to see, but he manages to push the shower curtain back and crank the hot water on all the way. Not that it'll get him more than ten minutes of hot and five lukewarm after that, but it'll have to be enough.

God, his dick is still hard. Why can't it just—

Gavin catches himself clawing at the inside of his thigh again and forces himself to stop. He's got enough scars down there already. And like Nines said earlier, it's not as if pain has ever been a turn off for him.

The water burns, but that's what he needs right now. Ironically, it's the pain that keeps him grounded in this moment, but it's not enough.

His mind wanders. He hadn't wanted his first time doing anal to be like that. The man was twenty-seven, for fuck's sake. And it really had hurt like hell, bled all over the place from tearing without any lube or prep. But it also felt good though, toward the end when the pain dulled, probably eased by all the blood. And right now, with his dick in his hand and the dream so fresh—

Jesus, who the hell jacks off to their own rape?

Gavin smashes his hand against the wall. It hurts his knuckles, but he needs more, he needs to _hurt himself_ —

The shower curtain rips back and Nines stares at him. Gavin doesn't have to imagine how pathetic he looks. The water and steam probably can't hide from the detective android that he's sobbing and still touching himself.

Nines takes a step back, then glances down at the newly-freed space at his feet.

That's all Gavin needs to scramble out the shower, desperately dropping to his knees in front of him. Nines will tell him what to do. He won't have to think and it'll probably hurt and he deserves—

Nines grips a handful of his hair at the root and shakes him. Gavin didn't even realize he was shaking again until he suddenly stops. The casual dominance makes him exhale and go limp instead.

"Better."

Even faint, damning praise makes Gavin whimper for more.

"Are you cognizant of where you are, detective?"

And just like that, Nines fucking ruins it. Gavin snarls up at him.

"Don't fucking do this."

"We will not begin until you answer my questions," Nines replies.

"I _hate_ you!"

Nines somehow manages to tighten his grip. "That. Was not an answer. Detective."

The hard, clipped tone lets Gavin relax a little. This isn't Coach and his coos of sweetie. This is—god, it could _be_ simple if Nines would cut it out with this consent bullshit and fuck his worthless mouth.

"Apartment," Gavin says through gritted teeth.

"Name, age, and badge number."

That's easier. Now that he's playing along again, Nines' voice has gone back to his usual impersonal monotone. Gavin rambles out the answer like he's reporting for roll call. Or responding to his superior officer. Yeah, that could--

"And I am?" Nines asks.

"A sentient fax machine."

"I will let go of your hair."

Gavin clenches his teeth down on the panicked whimper that threat almost produces. That hand is the only thing keeping him steady. If he doesn't have that pain right now, he won't have anything.

"RK nine-hundred number three-one-three two-forty-eight three-seventeen dash zero zero."

Nines stares down at him. Gavin glares defiantly back up at his partner. Yeah, he's dumb as shit, but he can at least remember a string of numbers.

"Good. Open."

Gavin immediately gets on board again and opens his mouth. His eyes automatically drift half shut, so he can barely see Nines' hand move toward his mouth. Which isn't nearly as good as a dick, but that's right, the android doesn't have one. His hands have all that analysis shit in them though, so maybe they're the most sensitive part he has? Like how Connor's always licking—

A small chocolate-something pushed into his mouth derails his thoughts. Gavin automatically chews. Snickers? It's a fucking mini-Snickers. Great. Now he's going to have to puke that up too.

"If you behave, I will reward you," Nines tells him. "If you do not behave, I will not punish you. We will simply be done."

Gavin screws his eyes shut and bites back a whine. There's no way he can actually be good. For a little bit, maybe. But an entire scene? No way. And he'd rather Nines man up and punish him a thousand times over than just calling it quits and leaving.

That's what's going to happen. He'll fuck up and Nines will leave, just like everyone—

"You may tap, safeword, or otherwise signal in any reasonable way that you need to pause, break, or stop entirely." Nines' rational voice cuts through the anxiety-thoughts screaming in his head. "If you use this to calm down rather than misbehaving, I will also reward you."

Gavin works on getting his breathing in check. Above him, Nines conspicuously starts breathing too. Normally, he doesn't bother when it's just the two of them. They breathe together for a minute while Gavin convinces himself he can do this. Fucking embarrassing to admit he needs time outs to calm down like a stupid toddler, but that's a lot more realistic than just expecting him not to fuck up at all.

Yeah. He can do this.

"Tap," Gavin finally tells Nines. He reaches behind himself and raps his knuckles twice against the tub. "Good." He slaps the edge loudly. "Stop. Don't listen to a word outta my mouth."

Nines nods. "We will stop and assess if you tap once. I will ignore any verbal pleas or commands."

OK. OK OK OK. Shit. This is why Gavin hates all this safe, sane, and consensual shit. Now he has to Be Good, and think about tapping out, and face the fact that he wants this.

"Pain limits?"

"Nines, I swear to f—ffFUCK!"

Gavin tries to double over in pain when Nines kicks his thighs apart with the point of his perfectly-shined dress shoe, but the grip on his hair keeps him from going far. At least now he'll have a big, nasty bruise covering up the scratches he'd put there earlier.

"You're already." He huffs breaths in and out through his teeth. "Good at this. You asshole."

"Mmm." Nines looks down at him like he's studying his insect collection and Gavin is a particularly disappointing bug. "As you have not complained previously, I can monitor your vitals, and we have established a stopping protocol, I will let that slide."

"Thank you, sir," Gavin snarls, already Fucking Up instead of taking three seconds to calm down and use a respectful tone.

"If you had answered my question." Nines kicks the inside of his other thigh. "Politely. You would have gotten my belt. Now you will have to wait."

Gavin's eyes widen through the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes from the pain. Sure, he knows there's nothing beneath the belt, but he trusts that if anyone can get creative about pain and humiliation, Nines will come through.

"Turn around," the android orders instead.

Nines lets go of his hair and uses that newly-freed hand to make a little circle with his index finger. Gavin gives his belt one last longing glance, then reluctantly shuffles around on his knees to face the shower. Nines steps on the center of his back, pressing him down into the porcelain edge of the tub with enough force to knock the air out of him in a huff.

"Hands on the edge. Do not move them."�  
Gavin obeys this time. The pressure stays the same for a few seconds, then increases until he's sure he can feel his ribs start to bend. A hand appears in his vision again, and he realizes Nines has leaned over him, the android's weight braced on his back.

Another chocolate gets popped in his mouth.

"Good boy."

The spine-crushing pressure disappears, and Gavin nearly sucks nougat down his windpipe gasping for air. He chews the lame consolation prize and hates that he's actually starting to seriously consider obeying in order to earn the belt instead.

"I could break both your ankles like this," Nines says casually, in the exact same tone he reports the weather conditions in the morning.

The heel of his dress shoe toys with Gavin's right foot, pressing his ankle down flat against the cheap linoleum. Gavin shudders and barely manages to hold back a moan. Nines could do it. Crush all those tiny feet bones and walk out like nothing ever happened between them.

"But that is irrelevant," the android continues. "When I could simply rip out your spine instead."

Gavin can't quite catch his moan in time, and it echoes in the tiny bathroom, amplified by the shower tile. He doesn't slump—because there's no way Nines would allow that shit—but he relaxes into his position over the side of the tub as he starts getting back into the right headspace.

Nines' voice is suddenly right next to his ear.

"Does that arouse you, detective?"

Gavin pants and blinks down at the inside of the tub. There isn't any body heat behind him, no rustle of fabric or popping knees to give away that Nines crouched down. He is crouched behind him, right? Or is he somehow projecting his voice?

"Knowing how easily I could break you?"

Claws skim up his sides, and Gavin flinches. Technically, Nines tried to bullshit that those were nails, but fingernails don't feel like they were designed for shredding meat.

"You have …" Nines shifts close enough to put his whisper soft voice directly in Gavin's ear. "So much skin."

Gavin laughs. He really can't help it, not after that Hannibal shit. Or how the line almost sounded fucking _romantic_ , murmured right into his ear like that. Do all androids go around trying to hit on humans like that? _Uh, yeah baby, lemme smash that respiratory system._

The silence behind him catches up at about the same time Gavin's brain kicks in and realized he just laughed at the Dom that literally threatened to break his ankles twenty seconds ago.

But fuck it, if he's already in trouble, might as well go big.

"And you have the worst pick up lines," he says.

"I did not realize you required seduction."

Nines' voice is as monotone and stilted as ever, but Gavin swears he's picking up a hint of … hurt? The next line is spoken with Cyberlife's most advanced android's typical arrogance though, so it must have been his bpd imagining things again.

"Also, what I said _is_ correct."

"Uh huh."

"Your back is a canvas for me to carve into a masterpiece."

OK, still on the Hannibal shit, but now it's kind of sexy again. Especially when one single claw drags down the entire length of his spine while another clawed hand wraps around the inside of his right thigh, squeezing down on the bruise already forming.

Or maybe Gavin is just horny.

But at least this is regular-horny. For him, at least. Now his dick is only hard because of Nines, and he'd rather have it up for a creepy murder-bot than his old football coach any day. He'd fuck anything to stop thinking about that, and at this point in his life, he's pretty much worked his way down the list.

Gavin rolls his shoulders. "Masterpiece, huh?"

"Connor told me I should have a hobby," Nines says dryly. "He suggested art."

Gavin snorts. "You gonna finger paint with my blood?"

Nines makes a humming noise that is literally a humming noise. Or maybe a whir, like a laptop starting up. Between that noise and the claws kneading into his thigh, part of Gavin's monkey-brain begins yelling there's a big cat predator draped over his back and about to snap his neck in one bite.

"Let me show you what I intend to do."

***

Nines is not equipped to deal with this, to the point that he is unable to categorize what [this] is. Detective Reed is clearly having some sort of emotional malfunction that has triggered an accidental sexual response as well.

Identifying the cause of the emotional malfunction would require an advanced social module however, and likely several databases on human childhood development, sexual maturity, and emotional intelligence.

Between himself and Reed, there is a severe lack of [emotional intelligence] at the moment.

The only database Nines has is a self-made collection of his human's previous sexual encounters, facilitated by hacking security cameras and a few dating apps. Detective Reed only specified his medical history, family members, and childhood as [off limits]. The data Nines gathered indicates Reed is frequently injured during these encounters; that he specifically seeks them out for such.

And if physical pain is what the human needs right now, Nines is perfectly suited to fulfill that need.

"Carrying out my preconstruction will require much more preparation than this impromptu session," Nines says.

Gavin squirms and grumbles out complaints. Nines resumes his grip on Gavin's hair, right at the root to allow him to pull tightly without the risk of yanking out follicles or snapping the human's head back.

"Do not growl at me."

Gavin settles back down over the edge of the tub with a huff. Training manners into him will make for a time-consuming hobby.

"Consider this a practice run," he continues once the human quiets. "If you prove you can behave yourself this time, you may earn the full preconstruction."

"You gonna tell me what this is?" Gavin asks.

Nines has already promised to show him, and that seems the more efficient course of action. He sets his claws one-by-one along the nape of Gavin's neck. He did this earlier, during their alley encounter, but only with blunted nails. Now, he drags the claws down Gavin's bare back.

Red welts immediately start swelling. Nines can assess where each of the capillaries have been broken beneath the skin.

Gavin moans. His heart rate and blood pressure have both evened since Nines removed him from the shower. Nines raises his hand and presses the pads of two fingers at the junction where his neck meets his jaw. The chemical composition of the sweat collected there indicates it formed from pain and arousal, rather than [fear].

Nines does not have to understand the intricacies of the human psyche to recognize that physical pain is much simpler to deal with than emotional malfunctions.

"Harder," Gavin asks in a mumble.

"No."

That sets the human into another whining fit, until Nines utilizes his hair-grip to shake him again. He uses only five percent of his strength and limits the shake to less than a second. Interestingly, his combat protocols provide him with direction here by displaying preconstructions of what he should not do.

Knowing exactly how much force and the precise angle to snap the detective's neck and yet deliberately ignoring those prompts is … a very new experience.

"We will not engage in blood or knifeplay without the appropriate medical equipment," Nines says.

Gavin groans. Nines saves the audio file of the noise of complaint for comparison to arousal-based noises at a later time.

"Seriously? I can't get off from just this."

"Not my concern."

Nines scrapes another five welts down Gavin's back, diagonally bisecting the first set before he can complain. The action draws out a shaky whine and more sweat. Nines glances over the detective's shoulder at the phallus engorged with arousal between his legs.

"Also, I believe that statement is inaccurate."

Gavin sweats more. "Man, don't fucking—"

Nines reaches around to trace Fibonacci spirals into Gavin's inner thigh, calculating the loops to draw just below his groin.

"Rephrase that."

He hears the human grind his teeth instead. So he takes his hand away. No obedience, no reward.

"Sir!" Gavin gasps.

Mmm. Late. But he has already observed that his particular human needs to be training in small increments and producing a desired behavior late is better than not at all.

Nines rewards him by tapping the backside of one claw against the head of his phallus. He calculates the necessary force much more accurately than the first time he attempted to flick it and left Gavin doubled over in pain. This time, he elicits another gasp and then a sharp exhale hissed out between gritted teeth.

Yes, a much more accurate application of pain. If it is a flagrantly blasphemous use of the interrogation protocols Cyberlife installed in him, that is simply an added bonus.

"Simply because I can make all your painslut fantasies a reality does not mean I am a pleasure bot here to serve you," Nines reminds him. "We will engage on my terms, to satisfy my curiosity. Your sexual pleasure is not a priority."

Counterintuitively, the last statement causes Gavin to relax against the side of the tub. He makes no pleas or protests, despite Nines's research into human sexual relations clearly indicating the male orgasm is nearly always the primary objective.

And that many humans have no use for an interpersonal relationship with any other human or android that will not sexually satisfy them.

Nonetheless, Gavin did challenge that there is something Nines cannot do. Nines weighs which two paths will better his [pride] the most.

(Technically a deviant malfunction yet also technically not. Cyberlife itself had programmed him to state he is the most advanced android created at any possible opportunity and to hold keeping that statement true in high priority. That is [pride] in all but name.)

Perhaps it ultimately does not matter. He will continue with his current preconstruction as planned. If the human does not achieve orgasm from that alone, Nines will not assist him further. If the human does, it will prove Nines can manipulate Gavin's body however he pleases.

"Confirm you understand."

"Yessir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is a lot ... well, not necessarily "happier." smuttier? they're past the bad part and Gavin has been completely re-focused on Nines now--who has a mild existential crisis of his own, but who's counting?
> 
>  **coming up next:** Gavin. Gavin gets to come ;) Also, lots of kinks, including but not limited to: scratching, pain play, mild pet play, and discussion of knife-play and blood-play


	11. Existential Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines and Gavin are totally into their scene now, but that means it's Nines' turn to have a minor internal existential crisis when he accidentally feels something close to sexual arousal from Gavin moaning and begging for him. Meanwhile, Gavin fellatiates his belt, is forced to consent clearly and explicitly, and then gets rewarded with some humiliation and super, super light non-con.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, we are also super heavy on the trigger warnings for this chapter, but it's all about the stuff that happens in their scene, not any Bad stuff like last one! we're done with that for a while, and Nines *does* give Gavin aftercare, it's just not mentioned until the next chapter, sorry
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** just generally having a BDSM scene in the middle of an emotional breakdown / existential crisis, pain play, slapping (not the face), scratching, marking, discussion of knife-play and blood-play, begging, gagging with a belt, choking with a belt, temperature play, verbal humiliation, very light consensual non-con ie: they establish beforehand what signal Gavin should give to actually stop the scene and that Nines will ignore what he verbally says, including the words "stop" and "don't"

Nines moves on with his documentation of the detective's body. Most of the scars along his inner thighs are smooth and straight beneath his fingertips. Even lines with a slight upward angle toward his hips. Likely self-inflicted.

Gavin's thighs tense under the evidence of his self-harm. Another psychological condition Nines is unequipped to fix. All he can do is note an approximate time frame for the scars—the most recent only a few months old, but older than their partnership.

Nines moves upwards from thighs to hips. There are a few more scars over his hipbones, and of course the bullet wound four inches to the right and two inches above his navel.

"Can you _please_ get on with it?" Gavin asks. The extra emphasis he puts on the please indicates it is sarcastic. (Nines' self-built social module has advanced enough to detect when this particular human emphasizes words with greater than 75% accuracy.)

"You are quite insolent for a naked, shivering human."

Nines rakes his nail across Gavin's flank to cut off what will certainly be a snarky response. The startled gasp he gets instead is much more satisfying.

"Consider if what you wish to say to me will earn you the belt or not," he suggests.

Gavin makes a little noise that Nines saves for future analysis to determine what emotion it indicated. In the present, Gavin reverts back to the steady-breathing technique he used at the start of this encounter. It takes him far less time to calm down than it did before.

"Please, sir."

His tone might still be sarcastic, but it's a step in the right direction. Nines rewards him with a sharp slap directly over the same flank on which he'd just drawn welts.

"Fuck!" Gavin's grip flexes on the side of the tub. "Yeah. Please?"

Much better. Nines places both hands just underneath the human's armpits, then drags his nails down his sides.

A wave of data flashes across his HUD.

One display charts the volume and pitch of the noise Gavin makes as it changes from a pained groan to what may be better categorized as a moan to a softer little hiss at the end.

Another analyzes all the skin cells gathered beneath his nails. Detective Reed's DPD profile, medical records, leasing contract, and other miscellaneous data flicker in and out of charts.

Beneath all this, part of his vision partitions itself off to a zoomed in few of the marks left behind on the human's skin.

Applying the first two sets of marks did not elicit data spilling across his HUD. All the same information had been gathered, yet it went to the appropriate files without this … mess.

The only difference Nines can pinpoint is that Gavin did not react so strongly the first two times. He did not moan so loudly or babble pleas for more. Perhaps the human's reactions are fueling Nines's own?

Nines tests this theory. He flexes his claws in Gavin's skin, puncturing only enough to draw pinpricks of the blood.

Data explodes through his processor again as Gavin squirms and begs.

Technically, this is not software instability. One of his primary functions is torture, so the prerogative to draw even more blood does not conflict with either his core programming or the limitations Cyberlife set to discourage deviancy.

Therefore, this feeling cannot be [sexual arousal]. _That_ does cause instability, as he learned by sticking his fingers in Gavin's mouth.

But this feeling is some form of [desire]. It must be, the way he can't stop from recording how sweetly his partner begs.

"Yes, Nines, fuck yes, yes, please— _Niiines_!"

Nines retracts his nails and pushes his fingertips against the small puncture wounds he left. He rubs them back and forth, pressing harder to well out more blood.

Making Gavin lick it off would be a mistake. A lesson he already learned, damn it. He deletes the preconstruction of the human's mouth back around his fingers as thoroughly as he can.

"Baby, lemme suck you," Gavin chooses this moment to ask. "I can make it good, promise, I'll make it so so good, please babe."

The one _single_ human out of twelve billion capable of understanding how he thinks. Of course he had to choose that one.

He lifts his right hand to Gavin's face, but resists the temptation for both of them and knocks on the bottom of his jaw to snap his mouth shut instead.

"Hush."

Gavin whines like the mouthy little puppy he is. Nines has already threatened to invest in a wrench and make him mimic fellatio on that, a "threat" that only served to arouse the human further. Perhaps he really should purchase a chew toy for him.

In the meantime, he will simply make do with the supplies at hand.

"Ask for my belt, Gavin."

The human shudders too hard to answer. That same feeling rushes through Nines's system again. Control. Yes, that's what it is. He was created to [hunt], to be an apex predator, not a shadow of a detective as a glorified consultant.

This is the only method he has left to fulfill even a fraction of his true purpose. He cannot act above the law without jurisdiction now that deviants have rights, setting so much beyond his control as they wait for warrants and comas and permission to solve their case.

Yet in this moment, he has complete control over _something_ —the naked, shivering human beneath him who begs so sweetly for more.

"Nines, sir." Gavin shivers again and draws in a slow breath. " _Please_."

Nines unbuckles his belt. Just the sound leaves the human shaking again, squeezing the sides of the tub until his knuckles turn white from the effort.

"Fuck me—fuck me, whip me, please sir!"

None of the scratch-welts he left broke the skin, but they're certainly all close to it. He calculated that exactly. Whipping the belt across Gavin's back would absolutely cause his already-damaged skin to break, and they do not have the medical supplies available to treat such serious injuries.

Not ideal. The opposite. In fact, he rejects that scenario so strongly it casts a certain amount of doubt on his hypothesis that this desire for control stems from his original programming. 

He does not want to hurt Gavin Reed. Control him, use him, inflict pain—yes. But nothing that would cause damage beyond their ability to treat afterward.

And why does attempting to touch the human always spark an existential fucking crisis?

***

Gavin leans over the side of the tub and begs like he's praying. He hasn't bothered for years now, but Nines seems as good a substitute for a distant, callous god as any.

But the lash of his belt never strikes.

The leather gets looped around his neck instead, and that isn't what he was praying for, but choking's good too. He mumbles out his thanks as Nines slots the end of the belt through the buckle and draws the loop tight around his neck.

"You do not decide what we do," his Dom tells him. "I choose."

Gavin practically melts over the porcelain. "You choose."

Yeah, he'll thank fucking god for that. Not choosing—not _thinking_ —is all he wanted anyway. Doesn't matter how Nines decides to make it happen or whether or not he's allowed to come in the end. Not like any of the other guys he usually fucks have ever been eager to give a reach around anyway.

Perfectly room temperature fingers slip between the belt and his throat. It's super fucking weird that the android doesn't have any sort of body temperature at all, but all that shit is shoved somewhere else in his mind right now. He doesn't ~~have to~~ get to think unless Nines tells him to.

"Open."

Gavin opens his mouth without opening his eyes first. He'll take whatever Nines puts in there—dick, fingers, chocolate for his weird positive reinforcement kink. Whatever.

This time he gets the end of the belt. Maybe the leather is for him to bite down on? Fuck, he'd love Nines to really put those claws to use.

Instead, they scrape through his hair.

"Good boy."

Gavin sucks on the leather as Nines scratches gently along his scalp. It's like having his hair played with except a thousand times better because of the shivery not-quite-pain of the sharp nails. Everything is warm and good and—

The sharp slash of pain across his back catches him totally off guard. 

He nearly slams his forehead onto the porcelain except for Nines' right hand gripping his hair to keep his head still. All he manages to do is flex his back muscles trying to curl up against the pain, which of course only makes it worse.

Better.

"Signal, detective."

It takes a long moment for words to make enough sense inside his mind to even process what Nines said. Signal what? All his stupid brain spits back out at him is an absurd mental picture of flight conductors waving those orange flags.

"Gavin, what is your tap signal?"

Oh, that. He weakly thumps his fist twice against the tub. Thinking sucks. It's not fair that Nines keeps making him do it. No one else does. It's been a long while since he made the mistake of fucking someone who actually "cared." In the end, they never really cared as much as he did, and he just wound up looking stupid with his heart on a silver platter.

But Nines rewards him by moving his right hand out of his hair and yanking the belt tight around his neck for a moment and that's good enough to make him forget.

His left hand goes back to scratching down his back. Gavin's pretty sure he never does it hard enough to draw blood, but the pain all blurs together to something close to pleasure. Enough to make his dick throb in time to the aching pulse across his back.

The belt helps muffle some of his noises—and blessedly give something for his needy mouth to suck on—but he knows Nines can still hear him whine like a bitch for more.

"You are doing much better now."

Gavin blinks back against the tears suddenly pressing into the corners of his eyes. He thought he'd stopped that.

Nines slaps against his hip again, this time a little lower than before to get right over the spot where he'd sunk his claws in. The pinpricks explode back into hot little stabs of pain, surrounded by the general burn of the slap.

No, wait. That's maybe just Nines' hand? He hasn't moved it away yet. Gavin squirms as the hand presses harder against him. It feels like it's burning, not the neutral-cool temperature from before.

"Interesting."

The hand moves, wrapping around the back of his neck next. Nines doesn't squeeze or massage him or anything, but just having something hot sinking warmth into the tense muscles there makes Gavin groan his appreciation.

It grips around the inside of his thigh next. He doesn't have the energy left to feel self-conscious about his cutting scars anymore. There's bruises and Nines' own scrapes covering over most of them now too. That's … kind of nice. Having someone else's marks instead of his own.

Having Nines' marks.

God, his back is going to look like hell after this. He probably won't be able to lean back in his seat tomorrow. Shit. He might have to sit up straight. That bastard. Probably his whole fucking plan all along.

Somehow the thought only brings a lazy smile. As much as he can smile around the leather in his mouth.

"Puh-ee-z," he tries to say.

Nines must understand him because his hand moves up to tug on the belt instead. He pulls at the end closer to Gavin's neck to tighten the belt through the belt loop pressing against his throat, but without dislodging the end of the belt still in his mouth.

And this time Nines holds on.

Gavin relaxes into it. The cold buckle digging into his larynx, the lack of air, the instinctive need to cough and choke. All the porcelain and tile swims together in front of him as he finally has an excuse to cry.

Nines keeps him on that edge until black spots creep into the corners of his vision, then finally lets go at the same time he claws down his back again. The pain and the rush of oxygen mix together in a rush that leaves Gavin trying to gasp for air and choking on it.

It's good though. So, so good. If he could just get—he shifts on his knees, trying to get any friction at all on his dick, even as he doesn't even _think_ of moving his hands from where Nines ordered him to keep them.

Eventually, the rush ebbs back until he's not in danger of blowing his load without even being touched.

Fucking asshole just always has to be right about everything, and he'd been dumb enough to say out loud there was something he couldn't do.

Then Nines stands up. Fuck, that must be point proven. Gavin tries to hold back a disappointed whine. It's fine that he didn't actually get to come, but he'd hoped their whatever-the-hell-this-is would last a little bit longer. He's sorry for calling him an asshole—he doesn't want him to _leave_.

"Stay." Nines' voice cuts through his thoughts. "I am only preparing."

"For what?" Gavin can't help his big dumb mouth from asking.

For someone who can barely make facial expressions, Nines manages a perfect side eye.

"The … climax."

A pun? Gavin scrunches up his whole face. Seriously, his partner finally downloads a sense of humor and it's fucking puns. Of course.

"Puns, dude? Really."

Nines literally looks down on him. "I do not accept criticism. Now face the shower and think of how you are supposed to address me."

Gavin turns and glares at the shower wall. All he can hear behind him is some running water. Maybe Nines just flipped the faucet on and left.

"The fuck are you doing back there, _sir_?" Gavin asks as brattily as possible.

The next second, Nines steps on Gavin's head, forcing him down into basically a kowtow with his forehead slammed into the porcelain edge of the tub. 

"All this time to think." Nines sighs, a totally unnecessary fucking theatric, and grinds the sole of his shoe into the back of Gavin's head. "And you still cannot manage to address me respectfully."

"I hate you, sir," Gavin growls out against the porcelain, slightly less sarcastic emphasis on the title.

"Better."

"What happened to positive reinforcement?"

"Good things happen to puppies who obey."

The pressure lifts from the back of his head. This time, Gavin can actually tell when Nines crouches down behind him by tracking the shift of blue light down lower. It's all he had to go on without any body heat or breathing to give the android away.

"And since you are sentient enough to understand when I tell you what not to do,"

A cold cotton swab swipes across Gavin's right side. The peroxide soaking it burns against the five small punctures Nines had left.

"Warn you that you will be punished,"

The other side gets the same clinical treatment. Gavin still flinches away from the care. The pain, he can handle, but he's never had a Dom offer him actual medical care. 

"And then explain why the punishment happened, I will incorporate punishments into our system as well if you can learn no other way."

He's barely listening to Nines' lecture. It's just too weird. Punishments that don't involve hitting. _Positive reinforcement_. What the fuck?

"Now. Are we done here, detective? Or would you like to make one more attempt at behaving yourself?"

Done here. Gavin closes his eyes and exhales. Maybe. This definitely isn't the worst scene he's ever been in by far, but Nines keeps getting him right at the edge of really sinking down into subspace and then jerking him back up again with all this consent shit.

The nightmare is already gone. Weird as the night's been, it's taken him out of _that_ headspace at least. And he's got the scratches across his back to distract himself with if he starts thinking again. It probably won't be so hard to get back to sleep now.

But Nines said he had something _planned_.

"I'll behave, sir," Gavin says as steadily as he can.

Nines responds by pushing his head back down again. His hand is almost large enough to cradle Gavin's entire skull, and his claws pinprick against his scalp. He holds Gavin like that for several long seconds.

Just as he starts to whine for more, Nines drags his claws down his head, the nape of his neck, and the entire length of his back. Not hard enough to welt, this time. A barely-there sensation that makes Gavin flinch and shiver.

And then again, across his shoulders. Both hands trailing down his arms makes Nines lean close enough for the fabric of his dress shirt to brush against Gavin's aching back.

It's … soothing? Threatening though, with the danger of the claws digging deeper at any moment. Kind of like being petted by a monster that hasn't decided yet if it's going to eat him or keep him.

Gavin sighs and leans back into the touches.

"Perhaps if you show you can follow my rules," Nines murmurs into his ear. "I will actually cut you next time."

The end of a scratch suddenly digs in hard enough to hurt. Gavin groans, imagining Nines doing all this without holding back.

"You would bleed, but there is no danger of me accidentally cutting too deep or unevenly."

He has to admit, Nines sure as hell knows what he's doing to scratch him so many times and only draw blood the one time he definitely meant to.

"Would you prefer my nails or a knife?"

Oh, fuck. Gavin's hips jerk up automatically at just the thought of his partner with a knife. The claws are hot too, and strangely intimate, but goddamn a knife would be sexy as hell.

"Knife," he breathes. "Please, sir."

"Since you asked nicely …"

Nines wraps an arm around him and presses them together. Gavin struggles against it just to see if he can, but the android's arm might literally be made out of a steel bar for all it matters. Nines squeezes harder, the buttons of his dress shirt digging into Gavin's abused back.

"I will take that into consideration."

Gavin doesn't get to reply because Nines yanks the belt taut around his neck again. He tries speaking anyway. Since his Dom wants to insist on that fucking signal-tap-consent shit, and he already told him to ignore anything he says out loud, might as well get in some good, good humiliation fantasy.

OK, and maybe it's a little bit of non-con too, and maybe it's a total dick move of him to shove that into their scene when Nines is clearly trying so hard to make this consensual, but the shiver of guilt doesn't stop him from wheezing a "stop" that just uses up what little oxygen he manages to suck in.

Amazingly enough, Nines ignores the plea. Maybe he actually listened to the "don't listen to what I say" part? But there's not really much room in his head to wonder whether setting boundaries might actually let them get _more_ creative—and rough with him—not less, because his survival instinct is starting to kick in with the lack of air.

"Would it be too cliché to carve my serial number?"

This time, instead of pushing past the panic and relaxing into the choke-hold, Gavin grabs at Nines' hand but it doesn't budge. He can't pry open the fingers holding the belt. He jabs his elbow back into Nines' side next and only succeeds in jarring his arm numb.

"A fitting humiliation for an anti-android humanist, don't you think?"

The feeling of spinning creeps up on him, and the shadows start eating up the meager light. Gavin tries to blink the dark spots away and reaches desperately behind himself. His hand fumbles against Nines' face. He finds the android's closed eye, but when he presses his thumb into it, there's no give.

"What would your League friends say?" Nines asks.

His voice sounds farther away than right behind him, without any indication that Gavin should be gouging his eye out right now.

Fuck, there's nothing he can do.

And it's good. Nothing he can do, nothing he can regret not doing. The perfect plausible deniability—he didn't _want_ to get choked into coming by an android, there just wasn't anything he could do to stop him.

"Do … n't," he gasps.

Just because he can. Now he can finally say _stop_ and _don't_ and all the other shit he should have said before, but Nines doesn't stop. He's still here, right behind him. Not alone.

Gavin settles for feebly gripping Nines' arm as his vision starts to swim. Still here. Not alone.

He doesn't tap out.

And yet the pressure around his neck disappears before he blacks out.

"Breathe."

He follows the order on instinct. The instant he breathes in though, Nines' presence behind him is replaced with a wet heat across his back. Both hands press down on the hot towel draped over his skin, searing into the welts until there's nothing left in his mind but pain and the rush of oxygen.

Gavin comes screaming and untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, Gavin has some #Problems, but he needs to learn by doing, so it's not enough for Nines to just _say_ all that stuff about consent. Gavin has to put them both through a trial by fire and _experience_ it. and like I mentioned in the beginning notes, he DOES receive aftercare. Nines cleans up his wounds, puts him back to bed, and even sits right next to him holding his hand until he falls asleep, so he is definitely cared for after a really intense scene like this
> 
> unfortunately, Gavin himself very much glosses over this in the next chapter and refuses to think about it, so I thought I'd state it right now to make sure it doesn't get missed
> 
>  **coming up next:** the murder mystery picks back up again! Nines connects to the laptop found at the crime scene and finds the perp left a nasty surprise, while Gavin goes low-tech and re-examines the crime scene photographs for clues—and then has to sit and watch helplessly while Computer Stuff he isn't fucking smart enough to understand happens to Nines and he can't do jack shit to help ...
> 
> also, shamelessly plugging myself here, if you want to read the next chapter RIGHT NOW, check out my tumblr at phcking-detective.tumblr.com/First-Blood for more info about the fic!


	12. Not to be Racist, But

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More murder mystery development! Nines works on the laptop found in the apartment of the reporter who originally broke the Ponzi Scheme story, while Gavin goes low tech and prints out pictures of the crime scene to look over for clues. But the perp also uploaded a nasty surprise onto the laptop before he fried it, and Gavin has to watch helplessly as Nines fights off the virus ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well I've spent my whole weekend being sick and exhausted, so that was super fun! also slowed down (stopped) my momentum for working on the sequel to this, but I'll try to get back on it on Monday. in the meantime, I hope y'all like this chapter~
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Gavin makes a shitty joke to Nines that's technically sexual harassment, references to terfs, android-racism?

Gavin beats the printer like it's his meat. It asks him to refill the cyan ink again. He viciously holds the power button down until it dies, then immediately forces it to boot back up again.

[Please refill CYAN ink.]

"I'm printing a black and white document you cyan sucking little--"

[Please refill CYAN ink.]

"Hey, RK!" he calls.

Nines doesn't respond in any way. He just sits there in his chair, eyes closed, not breathing, and toootally doing paperwork. Really though, how would anyone else know if he's jacked into VR Minecraft porn?

"Hey. Hey!" Gavin snaps his fingers at him. "Come jack off in this a second."

"No."

Gavin waits for anything else. Opening his eyes to glare at him, texting his phone angry emojis, anything at all.

Nines continues to ignore him. Gavin resists the urge to pick up the printer and throw it at his head.

They've been like this ever since--

OK, so maybe Gavin's the one making it weird, but Nines started it! Gavin was just down to fuck, but the stupid android's the one who cleaned him up after he came and bandaged up his side and tucked him into bed. Nines might have even sat by his bed and held his hand until he fell asleep?

Stupid.

Gavin's cellphone finally buzzes. He makes himself busy hitting the printer from various angles again until a minute has passed and he can casually check his phone like it's no big deal.

_Apologize._

Gavin stomps over to their desks and shoves his cellphone in front of Nines' blank face.

"What the fuck?" he hisses.

Nines doesn't react at all. The phone vibrates again. Gavin grabs a sharpie and checks his phone.

_That joke was inappropriate and not funny._

_Also, do not think of drawing on my face._

Gavin throws the sharpie across the room. Ben ducks and continues on his way. Nothing's going to get between him and desk-coasting to his retirement.

"Since when the fuck do you have a problem with my jokes?" Gavin barely manages to keep his voice down to an enraged whisper.

What, just because they're fucking now, he has to treat the android like a person? That's not how it works. Someone fucking you does not mean they respect you, and if Gavin had to learn that the hard way, Nines should have to learn it too.

Maybe that's mean and nasty and unfair, but Gavin is a mean, nasty, unfair person.

_Since they referenced sexual activities and an implication of my genitals._

_Which I do not have._

Gavin sinks a hip down to half-sit on Nines' desk with a groan. Seriously? The same guy who made him come on the floor in the men's restroom is going to get onto him for sexual harassment?

His phone keeps buzzing.

_I do not make jokes about your sexual habits or genitals._

_Based on a review of your disciplinary record, you consider those "jokes" to be "fighting words."_

_Apologize._

Jeez, fuck. At least he's learning to space out his texts instead of sending a five paragraph dissertation. Gavin mentally grumbles about that and refuses to think too hard about the similarities between--

_The other humans are bad enough already. If they hear you making inappropriate jokes as well, it will only encourage them._

_Apologize._

Fuuuck. Gavin rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes. His phone digs into his eyebrow. God damn it.

The world isn't fair and after all the awful shit he's been through, Gavin deserves to get a chance to hurt someone else for once.

But he blinks the color-spots out of his vision and sees—goddammit, think of the devil. Aimey, shitty terf ex-girlfriend in the flesh. She's over with Anders at his desk because shitheads stick together. Vice doesn't usually show up in their department unless there's a Homicide case they can swoop in and steal at the last minute because someone did drugs somewhere.

Or unless his ex wants to shit on him some more.

Does someone know about him and Nines? He hasn't really said anything about it to Tina, but he knows the two of them secretly hang out behind his back sometimes. Because shockingly enough, the terf isn't mean to the cis woman. Wow, what fucking feminism.

His phone makes him jump when it vibrates this time. He doesn't bother checking it. In fact, he should leave right now before Aimey starts making up rumors just because he's sitting next to the android.

Nines finally opens his eyes and cocks his head.

"Don't turn around," Gavin mutters.

"I do not need eyes to see," Nines replies like the cryptid horror he is.

They sit in silence for several agonizing minutes while Gavin pretends to dick around on his phone. He doesn't leave though. 

He just can't decide what's worse: swallowing all the shit he's said about androids and admitting he's the asshole bigot he usually starts fistfights with just for a chance to finally punch down on someone else

OR

actually, really being that person for a chance at conditional acceptance and some friends with the other Anti-Android League members and just ignore the fact that Aimey is in the league too and is also a terf, so maybe their talking points are kind of bullshit.

Even though androids really are flooding the work force with—

Gavin grinds his teeth together. He needs more coffee. Fuck it, nothing can be worse than groveling for acceptance. Not for Aimey, not for his parents, not for anyone.

"Sorry," he mutters. "Will you help me print the photos or not?"

Across the room, the printer seizes up, makes a horrible high-pitch noise just on the edge of his hearing, and then starts printing like normal. Gavin walks over and swipes the first picture of the crime scene out of the tray to check that Nines didn't secretly make it print dick pics or something.

OK, maybe that's only something _he_ would do, but still. Nines would probably turn it into that one fake science chicken paper meme from forever ago. Actually, the look on Fowler's face might be—

"If you are done giggling to yourself, detective, we have work to do."

Nines nods toward the PM700 android approaching them with a fried hunk of plastic in her eyes. Gavin recognizes the vaguely-square shape as the laptop recovered from the reporter's apartment from the file Nines sent him.

"Sorry." The PM700 grimaces as she approaches, so it's probably not good news about the laptop. "IT did manage to repair enough melted circuits to boot it up again, but it's all wiped."

"I have learned a phrase from Detective Reed," Nines states. 

He plays the sound of what Gavin suspects is Gavin-himself clearing his throat rather than actually making the noise with his own throat.

" _Not to be racist, but_ —" Gavin's voice says.

The PM700's face goes blank as her LED spins blue faster.

"I do not care what the humans in IT think they have or have not managed to accomplish," Nines says in his own voice again.

"Hey, there are some androids down there," PM says.

" _Not to be racist, but_ —I do not care what some inferior models think they—"

"That's actually racist though," she says.

"What, the human thing wasn't?" Gavin gripes.

"Detective, may I borrow your SATA USB cord?" Nines asks.

Gavin perks up. "Why? You gonna …?"

Nines glares at him. "I need to establish a manual connection with—"

Gavin's already digging through his desk drawer for the cord. His piece of shit phone is so old it still needs an actual cord to charge because there's no way he's dropping hard-earned food money on a wireless charging dock that does the same shit for five times the price.

"Here, Detective Go Go Gadget."

Nines takes the cord, holding it like it's a dead snake. "That movie is before your time."

"Yeah, well, once upon a time I had a grandma. We watched movies, then she kicked it. The end."

The PM700 steps closer. "Oh, I'm sor—"

"Are those two events related?" Nines asks.

Gavin snorts. "Yeah, we watched the Avengers and that Thanos snap got her."

The PM700 pauses with her LED circling yellow. Maybe looking up those old ass movies, maybe processing that he and Nines are both terrible people who like joking about dead grandmas.

"The technicians used a live port of Linux to burn the OS to a bootable CD, so we've all gone pretty low tech to work with this thing," PM says instead of making commentary. "I can send you a copy of the file, but the techs are still playing with the CD itself."

Nines finishes inspecting the repairs to the laptop's motherboard and plugs in the cord. He sticks the SATA half into his terminal though.

"Hey, aren't you gonna connect to it?" Gavin asks.

"And I suppose you would bust right into a warehouse without sending a drone in first?" Nines asks. "After I force it to boot up on my terminal, then I will begin my interface. I am not going to plug an unidentified laptop directly into my system."

"The work terminal will act as a buffer between him and any malware," PM adds. "Sort of like an airlock."

"Whatever."

Gavin spreads the crime scene photos out on his desk and grabs a pair of scissors. They'd already lost him at "Linux," so clearly he's not going to be able to add anything important to the conversation.

In the meantime, the photos are shit. The precinct has been bleeding personnel ever since the revolution, with humans fleeing the city and androids still in a legal hire grey area. Hiring back some decent crime scene photographers isn't at the top of anyone's to do list, so the best Gavin managed was to grab some stills from the 3D reconstruction Nines made.

Which looks great on a computer screen, but the proportions aren’t quite right now that they've been printed out in 2D. And the paper is just the regular shitty stuff already in the tray, so he knows he's losing color and resolution too.

Gavin starts cutting and arranging anyway. Little known fact, but actually anything he can't physically touch isn't real. Crime scene notes on the tablets the department used to toss out like candy? Fake. Ten thousand index cards with those same facts written on them one-by-one? Valid.

The video Nines sent over from their walk through Synergy Paradigms didn't have anything Gavin didn't see himself, but it was kind of cool to rewind and zoom in on stuff. 

After fucking around with that all morning, he's made three whole flashcards worth of info:

The CEO's full appointment list for the day, reflected from the secretary's computer screen onto the gleaming glass wall behind her, zoomed and enhanced 300%

A damn good list of names for all the important people—still frames of the plaques giving directions to offices and the name plaques on every office door they passed—some name plaques taped over with names temporarily written on them, cross-referenced with the direction plaques that still say who was in that office, so now he's got a list of who's getting replaced and who's moving on up

And some sort of stock market stuff from a bunch of tablets and a smart tv left on inside a meeting room, zoomed in views of their screens, and a playback over the 15.6 seconds the meeting room was in Nines' field of vision that offers a few more screenshots as the slideshow automatically progressed to new charts.

The audio's even better—and worse. Two separate couples were fucking, one probably in a storage close one floor above them, one in the women's bathroom they passed. 

Plus, humans actually fart like, a lot.

Nines at least isolated and separated out all the audio so Gavin's puny human mind could comprehend it by listening to individual people instead of all of that shit playing at once, but trawling through it for three fucking hours this morning just gave him a lot of gossip and wallstreet-speak he isn't fucking smart enough to understand.

None of that can be printed out and physically touched either, so fuck it. He'll go back to the drawing board with the second crime scene and work the case from that angle.

OK, so what's he got here …

The front door lock—broken. Had to be fast, to still get the drop on Juarez inside. Gavin grabs the photo of the large, splintered indent in the wooden door. Looks like he just hip checked the thing and that shoved it in so hard the deadbolt ripped straight out of the shitty wood.

Index card: **hey is this super-strength or can all androids hit a door this hard? narrow down models??**

Paperclip it behind the photo. Low tech. 

Gavin looks over the photo for anything else. They're treating this case like it's connected to the suicide-possible-murder because the vics have a connection to each other, but _technically_ , this could be a regular burglary gone wrong.

No rubber band over the doorknob or any deliberate-looking scratches on the door. He'll check with some sources on the street to make sure no one was selling info on which apartments have owners gone on vacation or something worth stealing.

Scratches on the bottom of the door though. He searches through the stack of photos until he finds one with a view of the door from the inside of the apartment. No scratches on that side, and no signs of Juarez owning a cat.

Index card: cat wants INTO apartment. any neighbors with cats? if theyre friends, might have some info @ Juarez

All right, so perp hip-checks the door hard enough to bust the whole thing in. That had to have made some noise, so he needs to go fast from there. Three shots at Juarez.

Gavin skips getting into detail there. Nines already made a video reconstruction of the shooting that's probably perfect, and he's watched it sixty-three times already.

Photo of a possible footprint in blood, fucked up by Officer Klein. To be fair though, the "blood" has to be highlighted a bright yellow because Gavin can't see any trace of it otherwise.

Supposedly, Nines picked up on a microscopic trail from the desk to the window across the room. Gavin grabs a few photos showing the window. Grime along the window frame has been rubbed away in the shape of a hand and fingers—not that it does them any fucking good without any prints. Doesn't even technically confirm the perp was an android, since they could have been wearing gloves.

But why bother going out the window if they already broke down the door?

Gavin grabs the stack of index cards that has witness statements broken down in increments, paperclipped to keep all the statements from one person together.

Property manager, Katlin Miller, interviewed by PM700—no new hires recently, gave a list of android employees without a warrant, Anti-Android League bumper sticker on her car out front.

The androids she sold out are one WB200 landscaper who learned to double as a maintenance worker, two GS200 night shift security guards (not on duty during the daytime break in), and an ST300 receptionist (claims not to have heard anything or noticed anyone new enter the building).

Androids on contract: one WJ700 janitor (not in to clean the windows until tomorrow) and a WD500 that stops by to deliver mail and packages (in the morning; already gone by the afternoon).

They'd be interviewing all of these androids right now if Nines hadn't insisted they do deskwork during the morning to let him "recover" from giving blood yesterday.

At least Nines gets to do something useful with the laptop. Gavin peeks around his terminal to check on him. Eyes closed, not breathing, LED grey.

So just like normal.

He takes a long chug of coffee, only realizing halfway through that it's gone cold and now he still has to swallow.

OK, focus. Next set of interviews.

Neighbor 1A, Larson Phills, interviewed by PC200—next door neighbor for three months, might have heard gunshots around the time of the shooting but was watching TV, says Juarez turned him down sixteen times and also assaulted him by nearly breaking his pinky finger so she got what she deserved, asked to give a statement about the assault because it involved a hospital stay to put a splint on his finger.

Neighbor 3C, Junes Roger, interviewed by PC200—neighbor for one year, slept through the whole thing, college student at WCCCD (Wayne County Community College District), asked if the PC200 if he wanted to buy some weed; upon being informed that he is a PC200 police model, asked if wanted to buy some LSD-laced thirium.

Neighbor 4B, Sarah Williams, interviewed by PC200—neighbor for four years, Juarez is a nice girl, upset that the janitor ignored her cat, Juarez hasn't been seeing anyone lately, the janitor always pets her cat, no she didn't hear anything because she was too upset, the cat in question is an orange tabby named Sausage who likes to attack hands during belly ru—

Gavin lets his head thunk down on the desk. Reading witness statements always makes him think maybe the androids would be right to wipe them all out and take over as the dominant species.

He wallows in his misery for a few minutes until the PM700 says, "Oh shit!"

When he lifts his head back up, she's standing behind Nines and staring at his work terminal like it's an unpinned grenade.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asks, getting up and walking around.

"Um," she says. "Um? Fuck. I can't--nothing showed up when he, uh, 'looked at' the laptop's files on his terminal, but as soon as he interfaced with it …"

She gestures at the computer screen, where text scrolls down like a waterfall. It moves too fast for Gavin to even read anything, not that any of it makes sense to him anyway.

"I can't really follow along, but." Her LED flickers between yellow and red. "Whatever was waiting for an android to interface with it is some nasty stuff. We should call--who's his technician?"

Gavin peers around the side of Nines to look at his face. It's as expressionless as always. He still isn't using his LED either, so—

"Detective?" the PM700 asks. "Who's his technician?"

Gavin stares blankly back at her. Her face scrunches up and she clenches her jaw. OK, so maybe this is the equivalent of not knowing his partner's doctor, but it's not like Nines has ever said shit about it to him. Hell, he can't even imagine Nines ever letting someone else … fucking … _technician_ him.

"I'm calling Connor," PM announces.

"Hell no," Gavin immediately says. "Don't you guys have like, someone with the department for this shit?"

"We're not even hired on as actual officers and detectives," she snaps back. "So no, Reed, we don't have healthcare."

Chris wanders over too. "Hey, do you guys need a line to Jericho? I've been helping Hank and Connor do some feel good legwork with them. I think I can at least get you a line into the tower."

Gavin moves directly behind Nines' desk chair and cross his arms. "Don't crowd him, and don't call Connor. Chris … yeah, maybe, but just give him a minute, OK?"

"This something we can wait a minute for?" he asks.

Gavin gnaws on the inside of his cheek. It's not like he knows anything about this shit, and the one other android is acting like they need an android-doctor down here right now.

But fuck, if anyone can handle himself, it's Nines.

He takes out his phone and types a quick message. Nines has replied to stuff he's typed before he even hit send lots of times before, so he doesn't bother sending this one either. If Nines is doing well enough to keep a creepy big brother eye on his phone, he'll see it. And if he isn't doing so hot, he doesn't need the distraction of an incoming message.

**u good babe?**

His phone buzzes twice, so he relaxes and quickly backspaces that away before the other two see. Stupid of him to call his partner babe at work, and extra stupid to even get worried in the first place.

"He's fine," Gavin says out loud. "He's still synced or whatever to my phone, so he's doing good enough to multitask."

"Are you sure?" the PM700 asks.

"Yeah. Look, it's _Nines_ ," he says.

Chris raises his eyebrows at the nickname instead of RK. Gavin clears his throat.

"Give him some space OK? Chris, just hang close enough you can hear me shout if RK says someone from Jericho needs to take a look at this."

"… sure," Chris says after a pause.

The PM700 doesn't look convinced, but she finally nods. "I can go, um. Get you some more coffee. Is there anything RK likes?"

Gavin's left staring at her like an asshole again. He wasn't even aware there were any other options than thirium. Or does she mean, like—no, there's no way Nines got that eating and drinking update.

Right?

Fuck. Now that he's thinking about it, has he ever seen Nines even drink thirium? What if the asshole's so advanced he doesn't need it?

"Just a coffee," Gavin says. "He uh, has pretty strict ideas about what's professional. So he doesn't drink thirium here."

PM frowns. "OK. We all pool together what we've got in the new mini-fridge though, so if he ever wants some, no one like, monitors who takes what."

"I'll." Gavin clears his throat again. "Let him know?"

PM nods again, stands there for a second, then finally turns and leaves when the awkward silence gets to be too much. Gavin grabs his desk chair and drags it over to Nines' side of their desks so he sink down into it.

"I fucking hate these people so much," he whispers to his partner. "So don't you dare die and leave me alone with them."

His phone buzzes twice.

***

Nines emerges from inside his system at precisely six pm. The virus by no means required that long to analyze, but he took the time to double and triple check his work. 

Trawling through Cyberlife's internal database on all the androids in the city after that was a risk, but technically Markus's faction in Jericho have assured him they successfully sued for exclusive right to that database and have encrypted it thoroughly to prevent Kamski accessing it again. Between the evidence he's compiled so far and the complexity of the virus, he's managed to narrow down their model list and update the list of potential after-market modifications their perp likely has.

With that and some minor other paperwork completed, he reaches out to Detective Reed's phone to ask his partner for an update on the afternoon's interviews. The phone's GPS location reads as inside the precinct.

Nines opens his eyes. Detective Reed is slumped over the desk right beside him, snoring softly. He's pulled his chair so close next to Nines, their arm rests touch.

[software instability ^^]

He deletes that notification.

"Oh, good, you're awake," the PM700 [Lisa] whispers, tip-toeing over. "Do you want some thirium?"

Nines reviews his internal data input logs. Detective Reed's heat signature has stayed within a foot of him for the majority of the day, and his cellphone's GPS data places him within the precinct for the entirety.

"He yells if anyone even hints at it, but he's been worried about you," Lisa says.

That is one of the first personality traits Nines ever logged about him. Underneath the outward front of indifference and hostility, Detective Gavin Reed is a [loyal] friend.

"I brought another coffee."

She holds the cup out in offering, but Nines immediately waves it away. Gavin is his partner, his human, and his responsibility. That is possessiveness, not [jealousy].

"It's OK." Lisa smiles and steps back. "He made sure to tell me numerous times that you somehow pour the same coffee from the same pot into the same styrofoam cups way better than me."

[software insta

[notification deleted]

"Thank you for taking care of him," Nines says. "It is no longer necessary."

"All right. Are you two heading home then?" she asks.

"Yes."

"OK, have a good night then!"

She waves and walks away. Nines hesitates, then reluctantly marks that as a successful social interaction. Beside him, Gavin grumbles in his sleep and starts twitching.

Nines grips the back of his neck to hold him down when he inevitably "wakes up swinging," as the human has defined it. Gavin does not disappoint, even reaching down for his side arm. Nines scoots his chair closer to pin his hand between them.

"Detective."

Gavin slumps back down again. Nines rewards him by turning the hold into a quick pet up through his hair and back down his neck. He runs a search on tension in human neck muscles and uses the data to rub the areas most likely to be afflicted. Gavin groans far too loudly to be appropriate.

"It is time to go home, detective."

"Mmgnff."

Nines saves that audio as well as thirty-six pictures of Gavin's face. He looks much better when he is soft and sleepy, cheek smooshed against the desk with drool running down his chin.

"Connor once woke up Hank by slapping him directly in the face." Nines says while still gently petting the human's hair. "That method was highly effective."

Gavin sits up with another groan, quieter this time, and scrubs at his face. "Man, I don't wanna think about what they do in bed."

"They were not in bed. Hank was passed out on his living room floor. Connor broke through the window and—"

"He's—" Gavin rubs at his eyes and snickers. "What, Cyberlife's second-best achievement and he can't pick a lock?"

Nines makes a note to mock Connor for that on the next business day their shifts coincide. Perhaps he can even convince the little busy-body that slapping Hank technically counts as domestic abuse. That should keep him occupied with self-introspection instead of constantly sending Nines messages of fake-concern about how unhealthy his partnership with Gavin is.

"Are you ready to go home, detective?"

Gavin louds out a wide yawn. "Y—ahhh. Yeah. Might as well."

Nines stands up and hands him his jacket. Chris tells them goodnight on his own way out the door and Gavin gives him a tired wave in response. After checking that he has his keys, cellphone, and folder of printed out photographs on actual _paper_ , they can leave.

"I apologize for not notifying you sooner that I had completed analyzing the virus," Nines says once they have some semblance of privacy out in the parking lot. "I certainly did not mean to waste your day, detective."

"Yeah, well." Gavin walks close enough to bump into him. "I could'a headed out on my own, but I wanted to get caught up on what I missed at Juarez's apartment first and I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Cutting down on your nicotine and caffeine intakes would make it easier to sleep," Nines informs him.

Gavin grumbles for him to fuck off. He still unlocks the doors to his truck early so Nines can get in while he walks around the front.

"I will purchase a meal for you," Nines says once Gavin settles into the driver's seat.

"What, you're gonna take me out?"

"I have observed the other humans at the precinct exchanging purchases of coffee and fast food after—" Nines pauses around the word _mistakes_. "Indiscretions."

Gavin continues looking over at him for another moment, then shrugs and starts his truck. "Sure, all right. I got some stuff I want to go over with you anyway. We can catch up and plan out our interviews tomorrow."

"Excellent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please imagine Gavin sleeping at Nines' desk, curled up right next to him like a sleepy puppy pretending to be a guard dog
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines tries to make "friendly conversation" with Gavin, and it goes about as well as can be expected. Gavin does open up a liiiittle tiny crack though and they both make another baby step toward learning how to communicate with each other as adults.
> 
> Or maybe even friends??


	13. Luck, Leads, and Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines attempts to make "friendly conversation" with Gavin, and it goes about as well as can be expected. Then they miss out on a chance to re-interview a potential witness, get kicked out Synergy Paradigms again, and somehow end up having another conversation. It's almost like they're learning to communicate with each other as partners or ... friends?
> 
> Too bad Gavin can't believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no cats were harmed in the making of this chapter, but it does include a true story of how I tried to adopt a cat and broke out in hives :( so I guess ... no cats were harmed, only one very sad trans man
> 
> as per the chapter summary, Nines tries to be nice to Gavin, who takes it about as well as you can expect Gavin to accept any form of kindness. luckily, Nines does not produce dandruff and cannot be persuaded from achieving his objective. also, all that stuff Gavin says about cats and how they need time to assess new situations and you can't just grab them and force them to be social--that all sounds really ... nice?? to Nines. maybe that's why he ~~likes~~ tolerates Gavin so much better than Connor. maybe he's not cold and anti-social, people have just been approaching him wrong. maybe he could also be loved the way Gavin loves cats?
> 
> [software instability ^]
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Nines suggests privacy violations and acting without a warrant, reference to when Gavin suggested beating an android to make him talk, references to police corruption in general, references to pedophilia and police brutality; none of this happens "on screen" or is shown graphically

"Have you ever had a pet, detective?" 

Gavin glares suspiciously at his partner across the dashboard. They're eating—well, _he's_ eating—in the car after getting out of the drive through because he's way too cranky and tired to deal with any people right now. 

"Why the fuck are you asking me a personal question?" he demands. "Thought that shit was Connor's gimmick." 

"I do not personally care about the answer to that question," Nines admits. "But I do not have a social—" 

"I know, jesus." 

"I am … working with what I've got." 

"Making Friends Baby Steps one-oh-one?" Gavin asks. 

Nines glares right back at him. "Yes." 

"OK, are we—why … what the fuck, man?" 

"Do not call me that." 

"What the fuck, _babe_?" 

Nines turns on his LED just to flash it red at him. Gavin flips him off in return. That's android-human bonding. HR would be so proud. 

"I already informed you I would be incorporating positive reinforcement into our partnership," Nines says. "You." 

He stops, LED left on and spinning yellow. Gavin takes another bite of his sandwich. He's hungry as shit and definitely not going to stop eating to have some sort of buddy-buddy moment, but … well, maybe he doesn't chew quite as obnoxiously as he would have a day ago. 

"You prevented the other officers from bothering me while I analyzed the virus," Nines finally says. "I was not in stasis, or in any danger, but. You watched over me." 

Gavin nearly chokes on his milkshake. The big asshole is making it sound like he fucking cares or something. Like he was some sort of dipshit dog standing guard over his owner's fallen body out in the woods or something. It wasn't like that. He just— 

It wasn't like that. 

"So?" 

"If you can think of another, **appropriate** ," Nines raises his voice volume slightly to stress the word. "—method of rewarding you for ensuring I could do my job effectively and without interruption, you may speak." 

Gavin slurps loudly from his milkshake. He should probably cut down on them. They're giving him a tummy pooch, but—those are his mother's words. It's not like he's got anyone to stay in shape for, and he barely got out of that house without inheriting her eating disorder as it is. 

"You bought me food," he says, since yeah, all of his other thoughts were inappropriate. 

"Yes." Nines turns his head to stare at him. "And part of participating in the social act of eating together is making friendly conversation. Have you ever had a pet, detective?" 

"Is that seriously the best you can come up with," he asks without thinking. 

Nines shuts off his LED and looks back out the passenger window, turning his head so that Gavin wouldn't be able to see the light even if it were on. He's managed to hurt the feelings of the one android in the city still insisting he doesn't even have them. Fucking fantastic. 

"You wanna hear about my pets? Fine." 

Gavin shoves his milkshake back into the cupholder and crumples up the burger wrapper to get tossed in the fast food bag. It takes a lot of self-restraint and maturity to do that instead of throwing it at his partner's stupid head. 

"I adopted a cat once. A two-year old female named Sipsey. She was dark grey, but had some like … salmon? Orangey color on her face, but only half. Could draw a perfect straight line right down to her nose between orange and grey." 

Nines slowly turns his head forward, degree by degree. Gavin's surprised it doesn't make a clacking noise like a cart inching its way up a rollercoaster. 

"I stocked up on some off-brand allergy meds beforehand and met her at the shelter once to make sure I could handle it. Some cats just don't bother me as bad." 

He stops. The car feels too fucking claustrophobic. He's still got his stupid seatbelt buckled from driving, so he punches the release button and kicks back in the seat. 

"The shelter warned me she was shy and didn't let anyone touch her, but I'd be pissed off and dig into a hiding spot too if I had to share living space with twenty other fucking people. She hid under the manager's desk the whole time I met her, but I got her to eat some treats I dropped." 

A yellow glow lights up the inside of the car, so Gavin shuts his eyes. 

"I had … fucking … cardboard boxes. All set up around my apartment. So she'd have—have hiding spots. And stuff." 

God, he is _not_ getting choked up over this shit. It's been years. It doesn't even matter. It's not like she's dead or anything. 

"And, uh." He stops and clears his throat. "She did hide for the first twenty minutes. You gotta let cats adjust. They're not dogs. They need time to scope out a new environment, feel safe, you know?" 

He can feel Nines looking at him now, so he keeps his eyes squeezed shut. 

"But as soon as she realized I wasn't going to chase her down or grab her, she came out and started meowing. I had to be—had to be real careful. Only reach out with one hand because if she saw two, she'd bolt so I couldn't pick her up. Never did get her into my lap, but she rubbed all over my hand and arm, purring. She was a good girl and probably super affectionate to warm up so quickly, she just needed to feel safe first, y'know?" 

Nines doesn't answer. Of course he doesn't. He _doesn't_ know any of this shit. He's never had a pet or a friend or a family. 

Shit, that thought was supposed to be spiteful, not sad. 

"Anyway." Gavin opens his eyes and stares up at the roof of the car. "My whole fucking arm broke out in hives. I was a little sniffly at the shelter, and it got worse on the ride home, but I thought. Fuck. I thought I could handle it." 

He lets out a long slow exhale. Breathe in, one-two-three. Breathe out, one-two-three-four-five. In-two-three, out-two-three-four-five. 

"Tina's half-sister's aunt took her. Gave her all the shit I bought. All the toys and cat food and—the fucking cat tree and bird feeder I set up by the window. Uh. Feeder on the _other_ side. So she could sit on the tree and watch the birds out the window. Wouldn't be bored while I was at work." 

He stops again to laugh. It's a really ugly sound. 

"Three hundred fucking dollars. Tina said that cat was going to think she'd been adopted by Beyonce. But nope! Just me. Such a fucking loser I can't even have a fucking cat." 

Gavin wrenches the lever to put his seat back up and starts the car. He doesn't look at Nines. Sharing time is over for the next five years. 

"That's what happens when I try to have a friend, so keep that in mind, tin can." 

*******

Gavin bangs his head against the door, right next to the cheery postcard announcing Sarah Williams' Bahamas cruise. 

"She won her workplace raffle three months ago," Nines informs him, LED spinning yellow. "It seems she guessed the correct number of jelly beans in a—" 

"It's a real thing then?" Gavin asks. 

"Yes." Nines never sounds happy, but his reply is even more clipped than usual. "Her workplace HR website is _blah blah android stuff blah._ " 

Gavin misses the end of that sentence because he's too busy banging his head against the door again. Maybe he can smash out all his brain cells and miss every sentence forever. He can't have that many left. 

"I apologize." 

That registers in his mind because it may be the first time Nines has ever said those words in that order. 

"If I had not …" Nines' LED flashes red as he curls his lip. "—dallied yesterday, then we would have caught Ms. Williams in time." 

Gavin sighs without lifting his forehead off the door. Normally he'd be losing his whole entire shit over a fuckup like this, but … Nines did just apologize and say what he did wrong. It's already done now, anyway. 

If he's being honest with himself—not that he's in any way used to doing that—he had all afternoon to go do the interviews himself, and instead he'd hovered over Nines for hours and then fallen asleep beside him like a lost puppy. 

Fuck. 

Gavin steps back from the door and tiredly waves at Nines to follow him. "We'll get this asshole another way. We still have two other possible witnesses, the manager, and whoever we can shake up at Synergy Paradigm." 

*******

Well, security kicked them out pretty much immediately, so they might as well have been shaking their own dicks all day. Gavin's dick, that is. Nines' strap on? He could work the hell out of a— 

Gavin really, truly tries his best to focus, but there's nothing left to focus _on_. They are shit outta luck and leads. 

"I have access to Senator McAshlynn's desktop," Nines says. "I could—" 

Gavin blows out smoke. "You got a warrant for that?" 

Nines falls silent. Gavin takes another long drag and lets his head thunk back against the brick wall. 

"I could dig deeper into the security tapes at the penthouse." 

"Too risky." 

"I would not—" 

"Everyone thinks they won't get caught, dipshit." Gavin flicks his cigarette to the ground, stomps it out, and immediately slaps at his jacket pocket for the carton again. "It's always justified just this one time, and we all swear to never do it again. It's bullshit every single time." 

Nines' fingers flex and twitch at his sides, so fast they look like they're vibrating, even while the rest of him doesn't move a centimeter to blink or breathe. 

"I could solve this." 

Gavin flips open his lighter and tries to shelter the flame with his other hand from the freezing fucking wind. Should've just lit this cigarette from the other one, but that's what chain smokers do. 

Yeah, and Hank probably just accidentally "forgets" a bottle in his bathroom cabinet but doesn't hide it under the kitchen sink because that's what alcoholics do. 

"We're guh—a sholve thihh," Gavin says around his cigarette. 

Nines steps between him and the wind, and the break in wind chill is a goddamn blessing. Gavin gets his smoke lit and inhales greedily. Maybe it's just his imagination, but Nines seems to radiate heat next to him. No way it's for his benefit though. The guy's probably struggling not to literally blow steam out of his ears right now. 

So don't lean forward and try to snuggle into him. Just because they're standing close doesn't mean it's like that. 

"Look, yeah, it's a pain in the ass to do shit the right way, but that's how we're gonna do it," he says. "Between me being the best detective in this shithole and you being the best android ever, we'll manage." 

Nines is determined to be obnoxious. "You were not so adamant under the hypothetical assumption that I would not get caught in our earlier conversation outside Synergy Paradigms." 

"'Cause you'd already done it." Gavin resists the urge to ash his cigarette over the android's shoes. "And I did say you still shouldn't do it anyway. I'm fine with getting right up next to the rules, but I've been doing this shit longer than you." 

"I did not preconstruct you to adamantly uphold the rules," Nines replies. 

Gavin shrugs. "Gotta have rules before you can break 'em." 

Nines silently inclines his head to the side. His fingers are at least twitching at a normal human speed now, so maybe if Gavin keeps talking, he can distract him out of going on the sort of murderous rampage that would need two full SWAT teams to stop. 

"Like." He takes another drag and holds it for a second before blowing smoke to the side. "Picasso made a bunch of regular shit before he started making cube faces and—" He gestures with the cigarette. "Blue. So you have to learn the rules before you can break them." 

"But you do not support breaking the rules," Nines points out. 

Gavin sighs. This is why he's not a fucking English major. Or art. 

"Bending them, yeah. And if we can get around some shit because no one else thought to say we couldn't, hell yeah. But if it's just a free for all …" 

He exhales and his breath clouds up like he's still blowing smoke. No one's ever bothered asking him shit like this before. 

"We already got cops who don't do their fucking jobs right, even with the rules," he says. "They'll fucking—not wearing booties, losing paperwork, showing up drunk." 

He has to stop and smoke again, just thinking about it. Those assholes. Fucking hypocrites. The one time he— 

Not going there. Not thinking about it. 

"I get that Klein really didn't see the blood there, but that's why you wear the booties each and every single time. Still would've left a print in the blood, but we'd know for sure it wasn't the perp's and any trace evidence caught inside came from Klein. Now we got a track and some dirt we can't fucking use because Officer Dipshit decided to skip a step." 

"You suggested roughing up the HK-four hundred model," Nines reminds him, like he doesn't fucking remember. 

Gavin doesn't meet his eyes. "Bending. At the time. 'Cause androids didn't—so it wasn't. Technically." 

Nines doesn't reply. They stand in silence for several long fucking minutes while Gavin worries his cigarette down to a stub. 

"Look," he finally says. "Even if you don't get caught, even if you solve the case and put away someone who really deserves it, the rest of the department is gonna figure it out. We're all fucking detectives here." 

"And why should I care of humans' opinions?" Nines asks. 

"'Cause the ten percent that think they're better than that will start sneering and looking down on you, and the ten percent that're dirty will have something on you now to leverage you over into the deep shit." 

"Ten percent dirty is a low estimate." 

Gavin snorts. "Sure. Probably. But look, everyone else? They'll keep quiet. They won't say shit the whole time you're going all Dirty Harry. Some of 'em might even--everyone likes solved cases and bad guys in jail. But one day you're going to get caught or make a real fucking mistake. And then all those same people will start pointing the finger right at you and pontificating about bad cops and--" 

OK, so that's going there. He stops and takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly. 

"You don't want to get caught up in that." 

Nines doesn't answer, LED quietly circling yellow. Gavin squashes out his spent cigarette and tries to convince himself his partner isn't digging into his file and putting shit together like the world's most depressing puzzle. 

"Is this a parked car conversation, detective?" 

Gavin shoves his hands into his jacket pockets so he won't keep smoking and shrugs. "Yeah." 

"I understand the value of rules," Nines says. "Other androids imagine them as red walls. Which is a ridiculous metaphor and not at all accurate." 

Gavin looks up at him and raises his eyebrows. He hasn't asked if Nines is deviant or not and the android sure as hell hasn't told him anything about it. 

"Inconvenient and often designed by humans either corrupt, incompetent, or both," Nines continues. "But far preferable than complete anarchy, yes. And easily circumvented with a little critical thinking." 

His LED dims and fades to grey, his default setting when it's not just the two of them. If he's not actively hacking it into a false-positive blue spin. Gavin has no idea how he does it. He's seen androids with the LED pried out entirely and a few video clips of them with pink and other colors, but that's mostly in nightclubs and porn. 

Not that he's been watching a lot of android porn recently. 

Anyway, he's never heard of any other android able to hack the actual blue-yellow-red thing, and Connor has reassured the department that even androids with aesthetic LED programs running should revert back to yellow and red when distressed. "Critical thinking," his ass. 

"So you're not going to go all Terminator meets Robocop on me?" Gavin asks. 

Nines gives a hum that's more mechanical than considering. "Not just yet." 

"I can go over the background audio you picked up at Synergy Paradigm before they kicked us out again," he offers. 

"You have done that twice already." 

Gavin grunts. He's still pretty freaked about the whole "always recording" thing that Nines technically can't ever turn off—and neither can any other android—but having a partner who can perfectly overhear and transcribe everything in a three meeting room area while walking through a shady corporation is one of those rules-bending situations he can get behind. No need for a warrant because Nines simply heard what was willingly said out loud. 

In other rooms. 

On other floors. 

And still, for all that, it's just a fuckton of inner-office gossip, bourgeoise complaints, and way more people secretly fucking and jacking off at work than Gavin ever needed to be aware of. No wonder Nines is so disgusted with sex and humans all the time. Gavin's horny as shit all day every day and he'd probably devote himself to being a born again virgin too if he had to listen to that all the time. 

_God_. Two separate fucking walk throughs, a total of seven and half hours forcing himself to listen to the pettiest, stupidest thoughts ever voiced out loud, and all they've got to show for it is a who's fucking who list that needs a goddamn excel spreadsheet and a second list of the company's rising stars. 

Mostly, the two lists _just so happen_ to correlate. He's tried checking into the names of people who don't seem to be fucking their way to the top, but Nines has been obviously way better at checking the numbers and verifying that all the rising stars seem to be on the legal up-and-up. 

Even if they've got names like Crispian and Bennjamyn. Like, fuck his whole generation. At least he did the goddamn decent thing as a trans guy and chose a fucking normal name. 

"Fuck this," Gavin declares. "C'mon." 

He walks out of the alley and straight to the parking lot without bothering to go back to his desk. Hank and Connor have been extra fucking annoying making googly eyes at each other today anyway. They've got no leads and no solid suspect, so they might as well skip out early and blow off some steam before he starts a fistfight with Hank or Nines decides to personally decommission Connor. 

"Are we leaving to do something productive, detective?" 

"Yup." 

"Sexual relations do not count as productive in this instance." 

Gavin unlocks his truck and makes a face at him. "Dude, no. After hearing those tapes? He called her a good little piss kitten. I want to die, not fuck." 

Nines cocks his head instead of opening the passenger door. "If you do not intend to engage in sexual activities, is my presence still necessary?" 

"I mean." 

Gavin swallows and shrugs as casually as he can. What the fuck is he going to say? Uh yeah, I thought we could just hang out after work together without fucking because we're friends or something even though I'm a huge shitty asshole and you're still insisting you're a machine without feelings so you're literally not capable of liking me or anything else anyway. 

"You need to blow off some steam before you start ripping heads off, and I want to practice sparring against an android for when we catch this asshole," he says instead. 

Nines' LED powers on blue. "Yes, that would be productive. Although my combat capabilities will obviously be much more advanced--" 

"Yeah, yeah, just get in the truck, babe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finally get some backstory for why everyone at the precinct hates Gavin so much! I personally can't believe "ruthlessly ambitious" alone is enough to do it, and given that he's only been showing being racist to androids at a time when most people legitimately believed they were machines and Hank was ALSO on his "throw them all in a dumpster and light the match" bullshit, I doubt anyone actually cared about his shitty android views, certainly not enough to hate him about it. plus, I think losing his temper and beating the shit out of someone is extremely in character, _and_ it gives reason for why he's so set on following the rules now. because I really, really don't want to write about a corrupt cop or even "good guys" cops who still ... act without warrants, and invade privacy, and basically think anything they do is justified as long as it's against a bad person, and the person they're harassing and violating always does turn out to be the bad guy and not an innocent victim because it's a story and not real life
> 
> anyway. minor essay on police propaganda and brutality aside ...
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines and Gavin go to the gym to work off some stress, except Nines keeps experiencing strange software instability errors while looking at Gavin's bare, sweaty chest. It must be disgust. He is [disgusted] by how much the human is sweating, and all his body hair, and his unnecessary male nipples. Obviously.
> 
> Meanwhile, Gavin has his own little internal crisis when he sees an android get kicked out of the male locker room. It's not the same as him being trans, and he's just spoiling for a fight because Nines kicked his ass in their sparring match. That's all. There's no reason he needs to get involved.
> 
> Oh fuck it, he's getting involved.
> 
> ***
> 
> if you want more info on this fic, like deleted scenes and some extra backstory that got cut, check out my tumblr at phcking-detective.tumblr.com/First-Blood


	14. Fragile Male Ego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines and Gavin go to the gym to work off their frustration, except Nines keeps experiencing strange software instability errors while looking at Gavin's bare, sweaty chest. It must be disgust. He is [disgusted] by how much the human is sweating, and all his body hair, and his unnecessary male nipples. Obviously.
> 
> Meanwhile, Gavin has his own little internal crisis when he sees an android get kicked out of the male locker room. It's not the same as him being trans, and he's just spoiling for a fight because Nines kicked his ass in their sparring match. That's all. There's no reason he needs to get involved.
> 
> Oh fuck it, he's getting involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we're coming up on ten days until I go to my first HRT appointment, wooo! in preparation, I ... have been slacking off horribly at working out. ugh. it's just really hard to stay motivated when what I'm doing right now isn't really making any changes and won't make any more changes until I get on T soooo
> 
> have a chapter about GAVIN being dedicated and bench pressing literally twice my body weight
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** use of bitch as an insult, racism against androids, referenced transphobia

Nines observes his human in the act of [weight lifting] two hundred pounds. Of all the ridiculous ways human males assuage their fragile little egos, at least this activity results in a relevant and useful skill. 

If only his partner could also learn the skills [patience] and [common sense]. 

Gavin finishes a set of five reps with a huff and shakes out his hands. "Put on another ten pounds." 

"Finish another set." 

"Fucking bitch." 

"Pathetic meatsack." 

Gavin snarls upside down at him and starts on his second set. He has already lost the argument to start at two hundred and twenty-five pounds straight away, after three months of (allegedly) "working out at home," rather than continued weight-lifting practice at the gym. 

Honestly, sometimes having a human partner is like being shackled to a tamogachi determined to maim and kill itself as quickly as possible. 

The human has been sweating for the last hour and forty-seven minutes, through the sweats and tank top from his gym bag he keeps in his truck. He has not brought extra clothes, utilized the gym shower, or purchased sanitary towelettes in advance—and Nines will _not_ be sharing his own stash. He has preconstructed every single one of his moves to avoid touching any of the equipment directly and he has still analyzed more steroids and STDs than he would have thought possible. At least Gavin's sweat is free of any substances aside from lingering traces of alcohol and marijuana. 

"Another … ten pounds," Gavin huffs when he finishes. 

Nines obliges him with an extra five pound weight on either side, then resumes his position. Gavin has good form and stamina, and he currently has the strength to complete his reps at this weight but Nines doubts he'll stop pushing himself until he hurts something. 

He hands Gavin his water bottle at the end of this set, and the human sits up to chug it all greedily. 

"Would you like an electrolyte drink?" Nines asks. 

"Free water … in the … tap." Gavin waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the water fountains. 

Nines sticks his index and pointer fingers inside his mouth while he pants. Gavin simply stares up at him, apparently too tired to react. Excellent. While his tactile sensors are disabled at the moment, a suckling sensation may cause them to power back on again. 

"The tap water here contains trace elements of—" 

Gavin finally slaps his hand away. "Don't tell me, man. Fucking Detroit, I know it's bad." 

Nines takes the emptied water bottle and goes to refill it from the fountain, to a muttered [thanks]. Much better behavior than when they were first partnered. He considers returning with an electrolyte drink as a mild reward for the detective working off his frustration productively instead of taking it out on others around him, but that is baseline behavior that should be expected, not rewarded. 

Two other humans mock-punching each other and laughing far too loudly take notice of him at the water fountain. Nines has all of the humans present in the building marked on his internal map, tracked via sound and heat sensors, so of course he can hear the comments they make about him. Since their opinions are meaningless, he disregards them as long as they do not attempt to touch him. They stay on their side of the gym, and he returns back to the weight benches without snapping any of their fingers. 

"Those guys bothering you?" Gavin asks. 

Nines gives him back his water bottle. "You cannot hear them clearly at this distance." 

Gavin nods his head toward the wall-to-wall mirror behind him. "Lip-read them talking shit." 

Humans are so self-centered and they have all the sensory input of newborn kittens; given that Gavin is also human, Nines occasionally underestimates how observant his partner is. 

"They are worthless. Are you ready to continue your sets?" 

Gavin wipes sweat and water from his chin. "Are you ready to add ten more pounds?" 

"After four more sets." 

"Come on, seriously?" 

Nines snaps his fingers and points at the weight bench. Gavin glares at him as the red flush across his face deepens, but he obeys after a moment. He mutters about Nines being the [bitchiest fucking trainer], which Nines graciously ignores. 

Just as he is ignoring the detective's erection. It is a physiological response to the adrenaline and blood rush of the workout, and is not relevant at this time. 

Therefore, Nines concentrates his attention on Gavin's other bodily reactions, such as how much the human is sweating. He will need a meal high in calories, salt, and protein after his workout is concluded. It is likely not coincidental that his favorite meal consists of a large chicken sandwich with the addition of cheese, bacon, and a side of french fries. Not the most efficient source of protein, but grilled chicken is at least a complete protein with a high biological value. 

Gavin stops halfway through after two sets for another water break. He would not be in such desperate need of hydration if he would stop sweating so much. 

"I will treat you to a chicken sandwich if you complete your sets," Nines provides as encouragement. 

Gavin flops back down and glares up at him. "You paid for my meal last time. I don't need—" 

"This was not an offer to pay," Nines says. "Merely that you will be allowed to visit that horrible diner and order your favorite meal if you complete your sets." 

"God, you're mean." 

Nines does not look at Gavin's erection, but all corners of his vision are as clear and accurate as what is directly in front of him, and given that the human's entire body is within that field of vision, the twitch it makes is noted. 

"Continue." 

Gavin manages to complete both sets without another pause. This time when he sits up again, he yanks his shirt off over his head and uses it to wipe the sweat from his face. 

"Make it two-twenty-five," he says. 

Nines confirms that his elevated heart rate and blood pressure have not reached critical levels. He would need to analyze the human's sweat to check his hydration levels, which would require touching literally any portion of exposed skin given how absolutely drenched in— 

[software instability ^] 

Ugh. Yes, of course, he is disgusted by the lack of hygiene. If his olfactory unit served to provide him with an actual sense of smell rather than a simple data input, the human would likely smell— 

[software instability ^^] 

Nines busies himself rearranging the weights until the two hundred and twenty-five pounds are evenly distributed. Gavin flexes his hands, wipes his palms on his sweats, and resumes his position beneath the power bar. 

He openly makes noises while completing his first rep. Grunts and snarls as he lowers the bar to his mid-chest while keeping his elbows tucked at seventy-five degrees. Then holds his breath. One, two, press back up. 

Nines keeps a close eye on his chest for any signs of abnormally labored breathing or impinged shoulders. It has nothing to do with his chest hair or nipples. 

And even if he were [curious] (RK models are designed to be [curious]; this is not an example of deviancy) about such features, that would only be a result of his physical model lacking them. His own chest plate was deliberately redesigned to be as plain as possible in order to trigger an uncanny valley effect in any human attempting to relate to, sympathize with, or touch him sexually. 

Gavin performs his third rep. He also has hair underneath his arms, black and wiry like the sparse hair on his chest, but longer. Nines could drive the knuckle of his index finger into the soft tissue there to pinch the median, ulnar, and radial nerves. That is the only action prompt his system provides. How to cause pain. 

Nines considers that while Gavin finishes his fourth and fifth reps. He reaches out and grips Gavin's hair, but does not yank his head or pull the follicles out. Gavin allows the touch, panting with his eyes closed. He doesn't react when Nines moves his hand down to press two fingers into his armpit either, too tired and sweaty to do anything more than blink up at him. 

It is possible he looks even better like this than when he is choking. 

****

***

Gavin blocks a punch with his forearm, which is a big fat fucking mistake because it feels like his radius just got hit with a goddamn crowbar. Things might have gotten a little weird with him and Nines after he'd finished bench pressing, but they're sure as shit not having any tender moments right now while they spar on a cheap gym mat.

"A GJ-five hundred or GS-two hundred would—" 

Gavin feints a punch in return and kicks Nines' kneecap. 

"—have broken your arm, as well as—" 

When that does nothing, he wraps his leg around the android's and grabs his shoulders, dropping to dead weight. Nines simply stands there and bears his full weight, then tosses him clear across the mat. 

"—any TR, TW, or WB-four hundred models." 

Gavin rolls with it and gets back to his feet. "Yeah? What about the HR-four hundred I'm looking at now?" 

"You would know that designation," Nines replies, LED still a calm blue. 

"Your dad knows that designation." 

Nines frowns, swirling yellow as he opens his mouth, probably to explain how he does not have a father. Gavin darts forward and—gets slammed down to the mat like this is a fucking MMA highlights reel. 

"Do not fall for a simple light trick," Nines scolds him. "Yellow does not mean--" 

Gavin spits in his face. Nines immediately rears back enough for him to get some space to pull his arm back and hit a palm-strike against his thirium pump, once again hooking his foot around the android's leg and using it as leverage when he pushes off the mat with his other leg to flip them over. 

He goes for the pump again when they land, but Nines grabs his wrist and yanks it to the side. Gavin lifts his other arm up too, and with nothing supporting himself, pile-drives his elbow into Nines' throat with his full weight behind it. 

That shit would kill a human, so it should at least stun an android. Technically, they don't have to breathe, but there's enough delicate connections in that little port on the backside of their neck that he's pretty sure most of them would be nervous about a collapsed trachea. 

Nines just attempts to literally bite his ear off. 

Gavin barely scrambles back in time. Now he's off-balance and sitting up on his knees instead of keeping his weight on top of the android. Nines uses the extra room he bought himself to pull up a knee and kick out at his chest while yanking Gavin's arm to pull him forward into the blow. Gavin drops down as much as he can, as quickly as he can and lets Nines yanking on his arm pull him to the right. 

Pain still explodes across his shoulder as he doesn't quite manage to dodge the kick. Getting that to the chest would have knocked the wind out of him though and maybe ended the fight right then. 

Nines adjusts and gets his leg around Gavin's neck. Literally any other fucking time, he'd love to suffocate between those thick bitch thighs, and the one time he'll probably ever get the chance, he has to find a way out of the hold. 

Since there's no way he can pry Nines' legs open, he reaches behind his head and digs his thumbnail into the android's instep. It doesn't actually do anything, thanks to the RK series' crazy tough plastic exo-whatever, but Nines seems to respect that as a legitimate move and releases his chokehold. 

Or maybe he's just worried Gavin's got a foot kink. Not actually his thing, but he'll take it. 

Gavin grabs his ankle before he can pull his leg too far away and uses the grip to haul him closer. He grabs his right arm too and slams it to the mat. That leaves Nines free to throw a left hook, but it's not like Gavin's going to win a strength contest against the android trying to hold down both arms, so he takes the punch. 

It's possible that he blacks out for a second. If everyone gets eight reincarnations, that knocked off at least three of them and erased four past lives. Gavin crumples, slumping down on Nines' chest. 

But he keeps his goal in mind through sheer spite. That's ninety-percent of what his brain is made of anyway. Nines freezes beneath him, and Gavin paws at his shoulder like he's disorientated. It doesn't take much acting skill. Once he gets close enough to his neck without his android suspecting though, he worms his hand underneath and digs into where the access panel should be. 

Then he's on his back. Nines over him. A hand wrapped around his jaw, big enough to crush his entire face all at once. 

Gavin taps his hand once against Nines' forearms. The pressure doesn't let up. It feels like submerging too far underwater, too fast, something in his ears is about it pop. 

Shit. Shit shit holy fuck, he has to do something or he might really be dead. 

With the last of his energy, Gavin raises his hand and flips Nines off. 

The awful pressure eases up, and he rolls over. Too soon. The mat spins beneath him and he's going to throw up and retching makes something in his jaw snap back into place. That gets rid of some of the sickening pain, but it still hurts like he got sucker-punched by a jackhammer. 

Oh fuck, that's right. He kind of did. Jesus, note to fucking self: never get punched by an android. 

Wait, double fuck, that note's already there. Shit. At least now he knows Connor laying him out on his ass wasn't a fluke. He touches his jaw and gingerly cracks his mouth open. Fuck, that hurts. Apparently he has to learn everything the hard way, twice. 

"Sir! Sir?" 

Gavin blinks the spots out of his vision and looks up to see a very concerned gym employee leaning over him, babbling some shit about an ambulance and the police. 

"I'm po … lice," he croaks. 

Ugh, shit, his badge is in his gym bag too, which is in a locker right now. He grabs his phone instead and types a quick message, praying she hasn't called anyone yet. 

**we're police, training exercise**

"Do you need an ambulance?" she asks. 

"Fuck no," he immediately replies. 

God, it still hurts like hell. He might not be able to speak at all by tomorrow once his face starts swelling, but like hell he's going to rack up any more fucking medical bills. 

"OK good." She presses her lips together and gives him another once over. "And you promise not to sue?" 

"For—" He rotates his jaw slowly and presses his tongue into his cheek. "—what?" 

"Not like … I don't know." The employee huffs. Her name tag reads Tailee. "I'm fit, I teach self-defense, but I'm not getting between him and—" 

"Hey, no no no," Gavin says. 

It only takes a quick glance over at Nines to see shit's still fucked. He's just sitting there on his knees, hands held behind his back, LED bright red. Creepier than back at their apartment when—that other robot in the movie begging and Nines just—

 **dont touch him** , he texts. **im w the DPD & he's one of ours**

"OK." Tailee the gym employee exhales. "OK. Good. Just, we're a small gym, y'know? And we barely get anyone in anymore since … yeah. Only made it this long by letting androids in, so don't fuck that up for the rest of them." 

Gavin tries talking again, slowly. "We're good. Nines … tell her … you're fine." 

"I am fully operational, detective." 

Tailee stares at his red LED with her eyebrows raised. 

"We're gonna …" He has to stop and rotate his jaw again. "Showers. Give 'im some space." 

"All right, but anything else and I'm calling the police for real," Tailee says. 

"Uh huh." 

Gavin raises his hands and smiles at her. It's probably not as charming with his jaw swelling—shit, does he have all his fucking teeth still oh fuck fuck—he runs his tongue around his mouth. Yeah, all there. Thank god. 

Tailee looks at him like he's a fucking freak, but that's just the expression women get around him. She nods after a moment and stands back up. Between him and Nines, there's just really no way for either of them to look innocent, but she leaves them alone. 

"C'mon," he mutters. 

Nines obediently follows after him when he pushes up to his feet and staggers across the gym to the water fountain. Full of piss and disease or not, it comes out the fountain ice cold, so he fills his water bottle again and presses the plastic to his jaw. 

"Fuck was that?" he finally asks. 

His phone buzzes. Of course. 

_I apologize._

Gavin just grunts. 

_My combat protocols activated in full when my access port was threatened. It took me longer than acceptable to disengage from the program._

Typing out a reply, even with just one hand, is way easier than trying to speak again. The cold water bottle feels good against his hot, puffy skin at least. 

**cool. u cant pull that shit w a suspect tho**

**next time well practice**

That's as far as he gets before the chat box erases itself and a new message from Nines pops in. 

_"Next time" <\-- Unacceptable._

Gavin rolls his eyes. Of course he gets the one android left who hasn't deviated yet but still manages to act like a melodramatic bitch all the time. 

**chill**

**u gotta work this out anyway**

"I almost crushed your skull," Nines hisses out loud. 

"Hot." 

The android's face twists into the most murderous expression he's seen yet—which is a hell of an accomplishment. Gavin just inspires greatness like that. 

**look im fine**

**better practicing w me than killing someone n being the 1st android police brutality case**

Nines opens his mouth again, but this time it's Gavin cutting him off with a text. Mmm, how's that petty taste, bitch? 

**Chill.**

"If you really have such a death wish," Nines says stiffly. 

Gavin punches his shoulder. He gets a disgusted scoff and an eye roll in reply, but it makes his LED drop down to yellow. 

**can we pls go to the bathroom now? I got blood I need to piss**

Nines must have downloaded a sarcasm mod or something, because he gestures to the men's bathroom with a magnanimous arm movement. Another android hurries out before Gavin can get there, shoulders hunched up and LED shining bright red against his temple. Before the door swings shut behind him, Gavin hears those two assholes from earlier laughing and shouting after him. 

It's not the same. It's not the same. It's not— 

Oh fuck it. 

"Hey!" Gavin calls. 

The android freezes miserably. Gavin reaches out and slaps at Nines' chest. Nines stares blankly back at him. He points back at the android. Nines cocks his head. Jesus, he's going to have to do this himself. 

"You need in there?" he asks. 

The android silently shakes his head. 

"This's my partner, Nines," he tries again. 

The android finally dares to look at them. "I-it's not a-a-a big, a-a big, deal." 

Gavin nods and waits, still mentally chanting it's not the same. But on the other hand, he sure as hell didn't get fit, push himself to bench over two hundred, and become a cop to watch anyone else get laughed out of—or thrown out of—a bathroom ever again. 

"I-I-I wasn't, wasn't, peeking!" the android suddenly blurts in the silence. "I wouldn't even, even, want to, to see … that!" 

Nines gives his own nod in silent agreement. Gavin tries to resist the urge to grind his teeth so he doesn't scare the guy off. Maybe it's not the same, but the bullshit hasn't changed. 

"That why they …?" He jerks his chin toward the door. 

The android nods. "They, they said … b-b-because I don't have the, the parts to. Then. I m-must, must be … looking. But I just, just wanted to ch-change my clothes!" 

All right, that's it then. 

Contrary to popular belief, Gavin is intelligent. He even has emotional intelligence, self intelligence, all that woo-woo therapy shit. He knows damn well he's looking for a fight to soothe his fragile male ego after getting his ass handed to him, and he's definitely projecting past humiliations of being taunted that he just wanted to see a real man's cock and laughed out of the men's bathroom. 

But knowing doesn't mean he has to give a shit. 

He takes his phone out again and types out a message for the android. If he's going to fight some gym rats, better not to aggravate his jaw any more. 

**im going to kick those assholes out. u can wait here or come watch. stick close to 9s**

The android stares at the screen, LED switching to rapid yellow spins instead of a pulsing red. Gavin doesn't wait for a response. 

"I do not recommend this course of action, detective," Nines says. 

Gavin flips him off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin: *uses the last of his dying energy to flip Nines off*
> 
> Nines: *completely dissociating*
> 
> also Nines: oh this human must be my human Gavin because no one else could possibly be THAT FUCKING STUPID
> 
> Gavin: is it just me or are you kind of hot right now ;)
> 
>  **coming up next:** Gavin fist fights these gym bros and then it's Nines asking "is that hot? is he being really hot right now??" and then they have a weird sexual moment in the gym bathroom with another android just a few feet away. good decisions all around!
> 
> if you want that chapter right mcfucking now, check out my tumblr: phcking-detective.tumblr.com/First-Blood


	15. Make It Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin picks a fight with gym bros to assuage his own issues. Nothing like beating the shit out of other people to make him feel better about himself, right? Right? Well, either that or hate himself for turning into an asshole bully too and then have a whole fucking philosophical crisis about how he should be setting a good example for Nines about what it means to be a man.
> 
> But the two of them are even, because Nines is still locked into his own crisis about whether or not he feels sexual attraction ... or arousal ... or just to Gavin ... or -- [software instability ^]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo I went to a strength training class at my local gym yesterday and now I HURT. 
> 
> me, working out with a barbell: gonna be like Gavin! gonna get swole! gains!!
> 
> me, this morning: feel like Hank. oh god my back. fuck sunlight just let me die here
> 
> please enjoy this trans male power fantasy of beating up bigots in a bathroom and then having your sexy not-quite-boyfriend check you out and experience a homoerotic moment
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** homophobia, fist fight, scratching deeply enough to draw blood, very minor blood play, rejection dysphoria (ADHD, BPD), unhealthy thought patterns, implied reference to sexual abuse

When Gavin shoves the bathroom door open, Tweedle-dumb and Tweedle-dipshit are still laughing it up. 

Dumb at least has on a tank and basketball shots, while Dipshit only has a sagging towel wrapped around his hips. They stop high-fiving each other and turn to look at him. He keeps it simple for the sake of his jaw and their last combined brain cell.

"Get out."

"What, _you're_ kicking us out?" Dumb asks.

Dipshit laughs. "You barely come up to my pecs dude, fuck off."

Gavin waits with terse cop silence while they laugh until it turns into awkward shuffling. His peripheral vision catches Nines step in as well to loom behind him and just to his right. Dumb and Dipshit get inspired for new material when they see him.

"Nah man, the android's gonna kick us out," Dipshit says.

Dumb snickers. "If I were that short and fugly, I might have a bot fight my battles too."

"I bet he has his bot do more than that for him.”

Gavin walks over to the lockers while Dumb and Dipshit flex their debate skills arguing over which one of them sucks the other’s cock. Dipshit lays out that all androids are natural born cocksuckers because that’s the only thing they’re good for, while Dumb sticks to good old misogynistic gender roles and argues that Gavin is clearly the “girl” because he’s shorter and smaller. Gavin the goddamn **_man_** turns around in the middle of Dumb’s crotch grab and savors wiping the smirk off his face by holding up his badge.

“Get out or I arrest you,” Gavin tells them.

Dipshit tries to look tough with only a gossamer-thin gym towel covering his dick and balls. “For what?”

“Harassment.”

“We ain’t harassing anyone!” Dipshit says.

Dumb finds an opportunity to let go of his crotch without looking sheepish about it and crosses his arms instead as he joins the protest. “Not any real people.”

“Yeah, we haven’t broken any laws,” Dipshit adds.

“Heien versus North Carolina,” Gavin says.

His jaw hurts too much to keep going, but Nines fills them in for him.

“Nicholas Brady Heien versus North Carolina, number one-three-dash-six-oh-four established in twenty-fourteen that police officers need only to reasonably believe they are enforcing the law to perform a search and seizure, regardless of whether a law has actually been broken.”

"Well that's not arresting us," Dipshit snarks back.

Dumb locks his jaw and keeps his eyes straight ahead. Sadly enough, he might be the "smart" one out of the two, since he seems to know what they're about to get hit with.

"Do either of your personal gym bags contain illegal substances?" Nines asks.

Dipshit does look over at their locker, immediately. Gavin doesn't need fancy analysis software to see him start to sweat.

"What, that's bullshit, you can't ask me that," he says. "I bet you're not even a real cop!"

“So you want harassment and resisting arrest?” Gavin asks.

“Man fuck you!”

“We’re tax paying American citizens!”

“Yeah, you can’t arrest us!”

“Yeah, fuck you!”

Actually, as a cop, he can do damn near anything he wants to any American citizen who can’t afford a lawyer to talk back about it. And you can’t hire a lawyer if you’re dead.

But Gavin doesn’t have the time or mental energy to explain to these two good ole Instagram Workout white boys all the many ways the American justice system is fucked and cops are hardly ever held accountable for their actions—plus, he’s pretty sure the entire precinct would help IA burn him at the stake as a token example that _sometimes_ cops DO face consequences!!

“Or we can fight,” he says instead.

“Dude, you just said that was resisting arrest,” Dipshit whines.

Gavin tosses his badge back in the locker and spreads his arms. “Freebie.”

Dumb glares at his and grabs his buddy’s arm. “Bro, no way. He’s just trying to get us locked up for sure.”

Dipshit nods. “For sure.”

“You don’t wanna settle this like men ...” Gavin shrugs and points back to his badge, then to the door. One or the other.

Dipshit sets his jaw, but Dumb grabs their shit from their locker. Dipshit, living up to his name, starts to walk out in only his gym towel. So Gavin's really not surprised when his leaving act is just a front to get close enough for a swing. He steps back and slaps the arm away as the punch sails past him, the momentum carrying Dipshit forward and causing him to stumble.

Right into Gavin's fist.

Dumb drops the gym bag to get into the fight, but Gavin shoves past Dipshit while he's still wailing and staggering backwards. Dumb at least has enough sense to get his arms up and protect his face, which still doesn't do shit for him as Gavin keeps barreling forward, ducking underneath his arms and half-tackling him to slam him up against the handicapped stall.

"By dose!" Dipshit yells. "By fudding dose!"

Gavin ignores him. With Dumb stunned from the impact, he steps back just enough to grab his shoulders and yank his body down as he slams his knee up into the dumbass's gut. He hears loud, bare footsteps slapping against the tile behind him--seriously, who goes barefoot in a public gym bathroom?--and turns to deal with Dipshit again.

He does it with a spinning roundhouse kick. Which is stupid as fuck because it puts all his weight on a single leg, and it's super easy to knock someone over when they try to show off with a kick, but …

God-fucking-damn it feels _so good_ to catch that dipshit right in the ribs.

He whirls back on Dumb next, but he's still doubled over on the floor, heaving. Dipshit isn't in much better condition. Might've cracked a few ribs with that one.

And he can keep going. These assholes thought they were tougher than him--what, because they're taller? 'Cause they're cis and can afford a personal trainer and get blown by gym bunnies sometimes? And then these idiot motherfuckers think they can come into his gym and make the rules all because they've never plain gotten the shit kicked out of them before.

Well too fucking bad, because he's gonna--

His cellphone buzzes in the pocket of his sweatpants. Just sharp and short enough for him to glance over at Nines. His LED flashes red for a single cycle, then his head cocks to the side. Someone else--the other android. Right. The whole "reason" he's doing this--peeks his head out around Nines and stares open mouthed at the guys groaning and whimpering on the floor.

Jesus, he wants to keep on beating the shit out of them, out of general fucking principle. Same reason he hit Connor, so really, he's an equal opportunity asshole to any other man that might be a little bigger than him, a little taller, a little stronger or smarter or hotter or … well, there are a whole fuckton of insecurities for his brain goblins to scream about.

But he's kind of like. Setting the example or whatever for Nines? The android is basically a blank slate, and that's being generous in assuming he's worked through all the "literal perfect killing machine" programming shit Cyberlife forced onto him.

And there's all the--shit. Gavin hates men like this. He hates these guys. He hates himself. If Nines is learning how to be a man from him, maybe he should. Like. Teach something better or some shit.

Fuck.

God.

 _Fuck_.

"Get out," Gavin says.

They both scramble for the door. Dumb manages to grab his gym bag first, while Dipshit is too busy stumbling out with one hand holding his nose and the other trying to hold up his towel.

Hope Tailee doesn't make good on her threat to call the police.

"Clear," Nines announces when they're gone.

The other android darts past him and gives Gavin a wide berth making his way to the shower. Fair enough. Gavin knows he probably looks crazy as shit right now, jaw all busted up, panting from the bloodlust, and yeah. His knuckles split from throwing a bare-fisted punch. He wanders back over to the entryway Nines is guarding, for lack of anything better to do now that the adrenaline is wearing down.

Nines stares at him. That's nothing new, but when he opens his eyes again after a couple of minutes of leaning against the wall and steadying his breathing, Nines is still staring at him.

He glares back and makes a shrugging motion. His jaw is nothing but a throbbing mass of pain right now, especially since he insisted on talking a whole lot instead of going home and icing it immediately.

Nines reaches out to trail his fingertips along Gavin's jaw. It … it isn't … bad. _Gentle_ just isn't something he'd ever associate with his partner.

The android's LED spins yellow for a few cycles. Then he takes Gavin's hand next. It's weird, but he lets it happen. Too tired right now to try talking back or resisting. 

Nines digs his thumbnail into a knuckle that's already split, cutting open the skin even more. He presses down deeper and harder until Gavin swears he's scraping the nail against bone. That's more like his psycho partner.

The comparatively minor pain grounds him though. Gives him something nice and simple to concentrate on, while Nines holds his stare like a snake hypnotizing a baby bird. God, those cold blue eyes make his dick hard.

Gavin lets his eyes fall half shut and licks his lips. Nines absently scrapes his thumbnail back and forth, like dishing out pain is so casual and natural to him, he barely even notices it.

He can hear the spray start hitting the floor instead of muffled against a body, but the other android doesn't finish his shower yet. He's just right across the room. Gavin exhales heavily. Is Nines into this too? Does he even know what they're doing here--what he's doing to him?

Nines releases his hand. Maybe not. Gavin squeezes his eyes shut and tries to get his dick under control. It's just the adrenaline. Fighting off those assholes doesn't mean he deserves undying praise and a blowjob.

A thumb presses insistently against his bottom lip. Gavin opens his eyes to that fucking stare again. LED off now. Why? Would it be spinning red? He opens his mouth and slowly takes it in to the knuckle. Nines doesn't blink or breathe. 

Fucking cheater, turning off all his tells like that.

He sucks on the thumb in retaliation, but Nines curls his other fingers around the bottom of his jaw, even the light touch sending pain shooting through his skull.

Gavin concentrates very hard on not passing out. It leaves his mouth completely slack, but Nines doesn't seem to mind. He eases up in fact, resting his thumb on top of his tongue for several seconds like it's a test before slowly rubbing it back and forth.

Using Gavin's tongue to wipe off his own blood.

Now he has to concentrate very hard on not blowing his load inside his sweats. It's the adrenaline, goddamn it. And Nines, and the aloof cruelty, and the memory of him stepping on his throat the last time they were in a bathroom together.

How Gavin would get down on his knees or roll over and show his belly if it would get Nines to do it again.

When his thumb is completely clean, Nines takes it away. Gavin hopes his whine gets lost under the sound of running water. His eyes had drifted shut again at some point. He just wants to go home and crash.

Well, get fucked first, obviously. But then crash. Maybe even--

He viciously shoves down the insanely stupid thought of Nines like.

Staying.

Or something. As if he'd give that much of a shit. No one else has in a long time, and those were all people Gavin could at least suck off first to make it worth their while. People whose existence he hadn't insulted and denied.

Nines touches his temple next. Gavin doesn't flinch, but he does brace himself for a blow that never comes. There's only sharp nails ghosting across the vein right at his hairline. Across his jaw again. Over his throat. He leans against the wall and lets it happen.

His stomach, just under his belly button. Then his side. The inside of his wrist. Back up to his neck. It takes a minute for him to catch on. 

Skull fracture, obvious injury, crushed windpipe. Guts, kidneys, veins, carotid artery.

Nines had done this same shit back in the alley after they'd gone out for drinks. Touching "random" spots, but only for a second before moving on to the next one. He didn't know what the fuck that was about at that time, figured the guy didn't know how to touch people like, sexually.

Shit, he really doesn't know how to touch people at all. Something in Gavin's throat swells up. Dumb asshole is just doing all his torture shit, but softer. That's all he knows how to do.

Gavin wants to--say something? Tell him he's good or--that he's--show him how to--

Fuck Cyberlife. _Fuck_ Eli. He should have just kicked that asshole's skull in when he showed up at his favorite coffee joint offering fifty grand to sign an NDA and a whole lot of other legal shit swearing to never tell a soul they're related or anything about their _real_ childhoods.

Must be a pretty air-fucking-tight fake identity Eli made for him for Nines not to have figured it out already. Maybe it helps that there really was a poor kid with a sick mom and a deadbeat dad, and he just switched the name Elijah for Gavin in all the records.

And fifty fucking grand hadn't even gotten him all the way through his surgeries, so he'd _still_ wound up broke and in debt.

Nines stops touching him and steps back. Shit, he can't read his mind, can he? Gavin starts to clench his jaw, then flinches from the pain.

Androids can't read minds. Androids can't read minds. No one can read your mind. You're just being paranoid.

The water stops a second later.

Yeah, that's all it was. Nines has probably been actually listening to the other person in the same room and figured out the shower was almost over. That's all. That's why he stopped.

Nodding through the other android's thanks and getting back to the truck is all a blur. He never showered himself, so he feels tacky with sweat and gross. The only bright side is that walking through the parking lot in the freezing cold night air wakes him up enough to somewhat clear his head past the pain and paranoia.

**hey. u wanna stay over in case that reporter wakes up?**

It's a thin fucking excuse, but texting is easier than making eye contact and saying it out loud.

_I will return to my own residence tonight._

Gavin inhales. Forces himself to exhale. Inhale. Exhale. It's fine, it's cool. He knew it would be like this anyway. He fucking knew it.

 **want a ride** , he texts back anyway, because he's a stupid idiot who never learns his fucking lesson.

_I will walk._

Damn. He's gotten shut down before, but Nines would rather fucking walk the however many miles back to his apartment than just ride in the truck with him? Gavin really only manages to resist throwing up by mentally chanting about how badly that would hurt his jaw.

And how embarrassing that would be. Rejected? Immediately vomit from humiliation and anxiety.

_Ice your jaw. Call or text me if you need assistance._

Gavin shoves his phone back into his pocket and throws open his truck door. Nines catches his arm before he can climb inside and make his escape though.

"Call or text me if you need assistance, detective," he repeats.

Gavin gives a jerky nod just to get the guy out of his face. Nines lets go and steps back. He'd love to peel out like an asshole, but he knows he'd probably just get himself killed trying to drive like this, so he selects his home address from the auto-nav.

Tries to convince himself Nines isn't synced up to his truck and secretly driving it instead. Fuck, it's late enough that he should have taken his second set of pills already. It's hard to stay steady with that when he has to take one in the morning and one in the evening, and he doesn't want to bring that shit anywhere near work in case someone else sees or finds the bottle in his desk.

He'd probably feel better if he just acted like an adult and told Nines. What's Eli really gonna do? Actually sue him for breaking the NDA? Take away all nothing of his money? Hell, he'd have to admit Nines counted as an actual sentient person first.

And since Nines and Connor were both prototypes, there's a huge fucking chance Eli … worked on them.

Gavin really can't even imagine how bad that could have gotten. So yeah, he should probably mention at some point, _hey I'm the half-brother of the man who created and probably tortured you, just so you don't think I'm keeping that a secret to hook up with you or anything._

God, he's such a piece of shit.

***

"Get out," Gavin orders the humans instead.

The emotion that elicits is at least more easily identifiable as [pride] that _his_ human can at least behave sensibly on occasion. Perhaps [spite] and [smugness] as well when the humans stagger to their feet and slink out of the bathroom. Those three feelings occur frequently enough to be more easily recognized.

Whether or not he feels arousal, if he is even capable of feeling such a sensation, and if the answer even matters given his lack of genitalia are all much more frustrating mysteries.

His human returns to him though. Detective Gavin Reed is [loyal]. Perhaps that merely reflects his near-suicidal stubbornness, but still. If the human stays his partner long enough, continues to allow Nines to interact with him, he may one day find answers. 

For now, the only solid lead he has to go on is that these infuriating questions are provoked solely by this one particular human.

So Nines touches him the only way he knows how. Assessing wounds and then exploiting them. The blood from his split knuckles smears across his fingertips. It's enough to provide an analysis, but Nines digs the nail of his thumb deeper into the skin to get more.

Gavin lets him.

What else would he allow?

What else is there to do?

Sex, of course. There are enough positions and kinks and fetishes filling up thousands upon thousands of terabytes on the internet that surely Nines can accommodate at least some of them.

If he does, will Gavin continue to display [loyalty]?

Nines touches him more. His wounds, his skull, his stomach. All so easy to rip and tear apart, but he does not. He ignores every single suggestion that pops into his HUD on how best to neutralize, maim, and kill. He touches with as little pressure as possible, without using his nails again.

Is that …?

Nines does not have access to the word. He can barely formulate the concept. But there is something here, between the two of them. The way Gavin lets him touch, closes his eyes, begins to lean into his careful fingertips. Something large and unknown, and perhaps RK900 would ultimately reject it in favor of the order and efficiency of being a machine, but he has to know what [this] is in order to make an informed decision.

And it is infuriating that Cyberlife has only left him grasping at smoke.

With that thought in mind, Nines pushes his bloodied thumb into Gavin's mouth. If this is a simulation, he will be failed. Amanda will be furious. Another reset--

Gavin sucks, and all those thoughts freeze and shut down. The earlier prediction that his sensors may activate regardless of his input proves correct. Gavin's tongue and his lips wrapped around the first knuckle of his thumb and all the millions of sensors on the pads of his fingers, even the ones not inside his mouth, lighting up merely in anticipation of--

It [hurts]?

[feels]

[burns]

~~feels [good] feels [pleasure] like in the alley like in the Tower like when the hands touched him and he had a component between his legs that~~

[hurts]

It **[hurts]**.

RK900 removes his thumb from Gavin's mouth and grips his jaw instead. The human hisses in pain. It hurts him too now.

But RK900 is [stubborn] too. He feels [pride] and [spite]. He will not let any information go unknown. This simple little human causes him to malfunction and he will discover why even if it hurts them both.

And Gavin lets him. Something about that facet of what they do is vital. Gavin leans back against the wall, and he keeps his mouth open and pliant while Nines uses his tongue to wipe off the blood. They have been here before. Experienced this same error. In the alley, Nines had stopped the instant this action caused him system instability.

This time, he does not stop until his thumb has been cleaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I'm dying right now because I was a dumbass and tried to do the class lifting the medium weights instead of the small BUT my first HRT appointment is next week so I'm gonna be getting that good good boy sticker in just a few days!
> 
> (since I want to use a patch instead of shots, I have decided to call that my good boy sticker lmao)
> 
> also, for this chapter, please imagine the meme format of Nines gesturing at a butterfly and asking "Is this sexual attraction?" except he keeps pointing at a hundred different things and the answer is always No.
> 
>  **coming up next:** Gavin's brain goblins tell him Nines not wanting to hang out with him means he hates him forever now and he's going to die alone and--oh hey, Nines got him a donut, OK nevermind! rejection panic attack canceled thank you! wait fuck now Nines wants to go do his own thing today without him, THE REJECTION PANIC ATTACK IS BACK ON, I REPEAT, THE REJECTION


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin has a real bad mental health day, complete with intrusive unhealthy thought patterns about how everyone hates him, and Nines doesn't like him anymore, and he's going to die alone. Yeah, sure, you could call that BPD or ADHD Rejection Dysphoria, but Gavin prefers the mental image of a hundred little goblins running around his brain while screaming and shitting everywhere.
> 
> But when he mans the fuck up and asks Nines directly if they're still good, they have an actual conversation about it. And it gets resolved? Is open and honest communication some sort of solution for--
> 
> No, absolutely not. Repressing feelings now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOOO I am on testosterone!! I had to go through an incredible amount of bullshit first, but I handled it like a champ--cut to that clip of Spiderman sobbing in the shower--and I got the patches I wanted for a price I can afford :D
> 
> meanwhile, Gavin is suffering from the exact opposite energy and has a Really Bad Day. poor little rat man ... you'll solve your case soon, I promise!
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** unhealthy thought patterns, paranoia, mild reference to suicidal idealization, hazing, homophobia / transphobia (both challenged), reference to childhood abuse by Gavin's mother, some slight misogyny (also challenged), references to unsafe sexual practices / using sex as a method of self-harm, internalized slut-shaming

Gavin could really use a three year nap, but most people call that "being dead" and "suicidal ideation." 

"Donuts, fuckers!" Tina shouts. 

He jerks his head up off the table and joins the mad scramble toward the coveted white box of sugary dopamine, but he's on the other side of the room and running off no sleep after a long night of agreeing with his brain goblins that his two best friends really have started to get tired of his bullshit and will probably stop bothering to talk to him soon and then he can die alone the way God intended. 

(Plus the realization that Nines is, in all horrifying honesty, his other best friend aside from Tina.) 

Nines steps into the room and moves through the crowd of cops like a bulldozer. Gavin's never seen the android eat before, but he gets to the box first and secures something in a napkin before leaving to a chorus of anti-android grumbling. 

"Hey, no fair!" Anders shouts. "He can't even eat!" 

Nines ignores him. He has a cup of coffee in his other hand, steam still swirling out the top. Gavin watches him walk over like it's in slow motion, staring down stupidly at the donut and coffee when Nines offers them to him. 

"Detective." 

"Awww." Brayden nudges Anders and they both snicker. "They're boyfriends!" 

Curling up at Nines's feet and crying definitely won't help with the hazing, but goddamn does it take effort not to. Gavin takes the donut and fresh coffee instead and sits down at a new table before his knees give out. He always does this. His brain just cycles through Everyone Hates You And Will Leave You at the slightest hint of anyone having something to do with their lives outside of him and then The Tiniest Crumbs Of Affection Deserve Immense Overwhelming Gratitude when that person comes back and treats him sort of normally decent. 

But he's going to act like a normal fucking person for the first time in his life, and _not_ blow up at his partner for not wanting to hang out with him last night or get all creepy and overly-affectionate over a single goddamn donut. 

"Thanks," he mutters and takes a bite. 

That's filled with raspberry jam, oh my god. Fuck, how did Nines even analyze the difference between this raspberry ambrosia and the lemon abomination mimics? 

"Hey, RK!" 

Nines doesn't look over, but Anders and Brayden continue their little stand-up comedy routine anyway. Did he ever sound that stupid? At least he just punched Connor instead of trying to get cute making fun of him. 

"Do you want a dooonut?" Anders holds one up on display. "Or a looong john?" 

Brayden holds that up too, then makes the tip of the long john shove up against the donut's hole. They both laugh, and he shakes the long john at Nines a couple of times. 

"Knock it off," Chris tells them. "You sound like sixth graders that just looked inside your own pants for the first time." 

"Hey RK, what do you have inside _your_ —" 

"Shut the fuck up, Brayden," Gavin snaps. Like hell he's going to let that question start going around for any reason what-so-fucking-ever. 

"We're just asking if he's a donut or a long john type-ah guy," Anders says. 

Nines stands completely still. He hasn't moved probably a centimeter since they started fucking with him, while all the other good, PC cops who were happy to give Gavin shit for punching poor innocent little Connor avoid eye contact. 

"Ask your mom," Gavin retorts. "We tag-teamed her last night." 

"Oh, so you're defending androids now?" Brayden asks. "Gonna tell me about their workplace rights?" 

Gavin rolls his eyes. "If fucking Anders' mom makes me some sort of civil rights activist, then call me Martin Luther Ki—" 

"Reed!" Fowler barks as he walks into the meeting room. "Shut the fuck up or I will suspend your ass so quick, you'll think you got caught smoking weed in high school." 

Gavin slumps down in his seat and shuts up. He doesn't even rag on the captain for being old enough to remember weed being illegal. Not that being suspended would make any fucking difference with how this case is going, but he's got a few others on the side he might be able to wrap up at least. Another suicide that looks like it's actually genuine and a gas station robbery gone wrong for the robber when the clerk pulled out a .45. DA isn't even pressing charges on that one, so they both just need a Homicide detective to do some interviews, make a shit ton of paperwork, and give 'em both the all clear. 

He doesn't bother getting his hopes up that Fowler will throw him a bone during the morning roll call and case review. Sure enough, the three latest homicides get divided up between Ben and Chris, and Hank and Connor. Fucking lifetime movie dream team gets two of them, while he and Nines get told to find a real, living suspect for Russell's death or rule it a suicide. 

Just what they fucking need. 

Nines follows him back to his desk, but doesn't take a seat opposite him. The android refuses to sit whenever they go to fast food restaurants on his lunch break too, so it almost feels normal to have him standing beside him like usual. His LED spins a steady blue, but it'd stayed that way throughout the donut incident too. 

He should talk to him about that. If he refuses to ever show it spinning yellow or red, someone else is going to figure out he can hack his LED. Especially since he doesn't have the acting skills to play it off when he freezes up as just not caring so much he's ignoring the other officers' antics. And if they catch on that he freezes, they'll think it's some sort of deer in the headlights fear response, not _I'm using all of my self-control not to murder you._

Chris walks up first though. "Hey, could I get some advice?" 

"Sure," Gavin mutters, still pissy about him getting another case to begin with. 

"I was asking RK." 

He doesn't say it in a dickhead sort of way—even though he totally could—but Gavin still wants to sink down in his chair and die. He waves his hand weakly at them instead. Keeps his fucking mouth shut so he can't say anything else stupid. 

"The 'home assistant' your case file references is a smart device, not an android," Nines says. 

"Yeah, they're real popular right now 'cause god forbid white people do their own chores now that they can't have androids," Chris replies. "These things can't do the physical work, but you can set them up to order your groceries, pay bills, schedule your morning commute in an auto-cab—people have these things running their whole lives." 

Nines doesn't respond. Chris waits, but Gavin knows he isn't going to get anything. 

"Yeah. So," Chris valiantly carries on. "Mrs. Piersol went off her meds, had a psychotic episode, says all of her electronics told her to kill him. Also swears that she _did_ take her meds every day, and coincidentally enough, there's a son set to inherit everything if Mr. Piersol died before the will got changed." 

"I do not have a social module," Nines says. "I cannot assess motive, and the so-called 'lie detector' program Connor has is no more effective than the average polygraph." 

Gavin spins around in his chair. "Wait, you can't detect lies or motive? What the fuck?" 

Nines hits him with a stare cold enough to re-freeze the ice caps. "Why would Cyberlife be interested in the motivation of an android to deviate? Why would anyone care whether its last words were true or false? A gun only has one purpose, detective." 

What was that great, brilliant thought he had thirty seconds ago? Something about keeping his _fucking_ mouth shut so he didn't say anything _fucking_ stupid. 

Nines turns back to Chris. "Do you have a relevant question my programming can answer?" 

Chris takes it in stride. "Could the victim's son have hacked the home device to make it send out commands and stuff to the other devices he didn't have access to—Mrs. Piersol's cell phone, tablet, laptop?" 

"A dolphin attack is simple enough for even a human to accomplish, yes," Nines answers. 

Gavin keeps his mouth shut and googles _dolphin attack_. He gets a lot of shit about actual dolphins. Apparently, dolphins are secretly murderers that will attack and kill other marine animals just for fun. So glad he knows even more fucked up shit now. 

_dolphin attack home assistnat device_

_Did you mean "dolphin attack home assistant device"?_

"OK, so that's real then?" Chris asks. "My cousin told me that shit's why he doesn't want to get one of those home assistants, but he's also a flat-earther, so I thought I'd double-check before I make myself look stupid in front of the captain." 

_'Dolphin' attacks fool Amazon, Google home assistants._

_Terrifying 'dolphin attack' can secretly hack your home speaker!_

_Siri and Alexa hacked with High Frequency Dolphin Attack._

"What is a flat-earther?" Nines asks. 

"He …" Chris coughs and looks to Gavin for help. 

"He thinks the earth is flat." 

That puts Nines on red-spin long enough for him to skim though half an article about home assistants sending out super high-pitched commands at frequencies humans can't register but computers can. The article mostly talks about hackers putting this shit in songs, so your device playing Christmas music secretly hears a command telling it to buy fifty-seven smart phones with your credit card. 

Or pop up a bunch of messages on your phone and tv telling you to kill your husband. 

Goddammit, they could have solved this case. 

"All right, uh …" Chris slowly backs away from the android with a bright red LED. "Thanks for the help, guys. I'll give you credit in the file." 

Gavin grunts, because if he tries to say actual words, he'll start screaming. He's already had a fit like that in the bullpen once this month and he'd like to keep his job. Like it even better if he could actually _work_ his job. 

Nines' LED finally snaps back to blue after Chris leaves. He's hoping everyone will fuck off and leave him alone after that so he can self-soothe himself with the rest of his donut, but his cellphone buzzes instead. 

_Do you require my assistance today, Detective?_

The donut turns sour in his mouth. He didn't want Nines to leave too. Shit, maybe he finally, actually pissed him off for real with that can't do motive comment. 

"Just doing paperwork," he forces out. "Why?" 

_I will conduct an interview on my own._

"Nope," Gavin immediately says, swinging his feet off his desk and spinning around to look up at him. "You know why that's a bad idea, so what the fuck's going on?" 

Nines spins yellow for a second. Gavin tries not to latch onto that—he'll let his LED turn yellow if it's just the two of them because—nope. No, no, nope. He imagines beating his brain goblins back with a broom. Tells his heart that it's in timeout and to get on top of the fridge while it screams that his psychology is a nightmare. 

_I am going to interview the cat._

"The … cat," Gavin says. "Mrs. Williams' cat?" 

_Correct._

_I will show it photographs of the android models Katlin Miller identified as having access to the property._

"That's …" 

_Humiliating and likely pointless, yes._

_Your presence will therefore be unnecessary, Detective._

Gavin grimaces. "You don't have to go do busy work. You can just—" 

"Stay here?" Nines interrupts verbally. 

He's gotten a lot better at making one specific facial expression—the raised eyebrow of sassy disgust. Gavin can't really blame him for wanting to get out of here, and it's not like he's never gone out and secretly fucked around a bit "interviewing witnesses" when it gets slow. But his brain goblins still won't stop screaming this is really about ditching him. 

"Yeah, all right, if you can get the kennel to let it, uh. Speak to you," Gavin says. "Don't do anything else though. Last thing we need is IA chewing up our asses about whether I turned you loose on the city without oversight." 

_I will interview the cat, inform you of the results, and await further orders._

Orders, huh. Is Nines "Humans Are Stupid And Inferior" RK900 suddenly outright offering to let Gavin take the professional lead in their partnership because they've actually kind of bonded working on this case or is this more buttering up? If this were anyone else, it'd be super obvious that his offer to wait around and take orders from Gavin is just insincere bullshit and he'll probably go off and do whatever he wants as soon as he's out of sight. 

But Nines doesn't have a social module, so is he really capable of that kind of deception? 

Or maybe it's so obvious _because_ he doesn't have a social module, and he thinks he's being sly. 

Or there's no deeper meaning at all because Nines is so entirely literal with everything he says and does. 

Or Nines knows he would think that, so this is really a double-double play to—

God, his brain really has taken strategy tips from his immune system: if someone could possibly hurt him, his brain goblins should just set the whole thing on fire. Burn out any possible threat, except everyone ever doing anything at all is a possible threat. Great fucking work, team! 

"Yeah, go do your thing," Gavin forces himself to say. "We'll meet up for lunch." 

"Understood, Detective." 

Nines leaves. Gavin sips his coffee. He jitters his leg. Throws the rest of the coffee back and slinks out of the bullpen after him, only breaking into a jog once he's out of sight from the other officers. If Nines already made it out to the parking lot, he has no idea where he'd go next from there without a— 

He's waiting at the door. Gavin slows. 

"How'd you know I was coming?" he asks. 

"I monitor your location via heartbeat at all times, Detective," Nines answers, like that's a normal thing to say. 

So like, on the one hand, Gavin is self-aware enough to know he has shit taste in men and his obsessive neediness drives him to seek out abusive assholes who are equally obsessive about controlling and possessing him. 

But on the other hand, his brain goblin dressed like a ten-year-old school girl is sobbing "he likes us, he really really likes us!" 

"Don't they all sound the same?" he asks instead. 

"I am attuned to yours specifically." 

OK great, he can just die then. Set his whole brain on fire. He's pretty sure his cheeks are burning too. Dear god, please let the stubble cover that up. 

"Walk with me for a smoke," he mutters. 

Nines steps aside to let him go out the door first, then follows him around the building to the alley. He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing here. He can barely even wrap his head around the possibility that he might be friends with an android, so he's got no business fucking _blushing_ around the guy. Hell, two days ago, he probably wouldn't even have admitted to liking him in any capacity at all, much less friends or— 

It's just because he left. Every other time they … had that thing between them, they'd at least fucked about it. But last night, Nines left, so of course right now his fear of abandonment is getting all stupid and hysterical about it. He's gone running after plenty of guys he didn't even like as people just because they threatened to walk away and he didn't want to be alone. 

Yeah, so it's just. Him being dumb as shit again, that's all. 

"Look, I'm only asking because you're the only partner I've had who's competent _and_ puts up with my shit," Gavin says. "And I know I'm not gonna …" 

Find anyone else. And if his ass gets dropped even by Nines, the scariest, creepiest android anyone in the precinct has ever seen, Fowler might just decide he's sick of Gavin's shit for good. Especially with all the demands to prove the department's android friendly and all that shit. He needs to get his shit together and prove he can work with an android, now. 

Plus, all the other androids are way more fucking annoying than Nines. The humans too. 

"I mean." He clears his throat and tries to start over. "Since you don't have a social thing or whatever, I'm just gonna straight up ask. Are we good?" 

Nines shuts off his LED. Always fucking cheating like that, covering up all his feelings and reactions like that will fool anyone into believing they aren't there. OK, well. He does have the department fooled, but it's not Gavin's fault he's the best detective in the place and everyone else is a moron. 

"Our partnership remains productive, detective." 

" _Our partnership_ ," Gavin mimics. "I mean us, dipshit. Are you and me good? Like. Personally." 

Nines stares at him without blinking. Well fuck him, two can play at that game. Gavin loses after forty-eight seconds and has to scrunch his eyes shut a few times, but he goes right back to glaring at him again after. They can stand here all day, motherfucker. 

"How am I supposed to answer that question," Nines finally says. "I do not have a social thing." 

Gavin grunts and pulls out a cigarette. He fiddles with it in his fingers instead of lighting it. 

"If you just don't wanna fuck sometimes, that's fine," he says, keeping his voice down, just in case. "That can be your answer, and that's all last night was. Whatever. We'll be good. I'm just checking there wasn't—isn't—something else going on." 

"I needed time to process," Nines answers slowly. 

Gavin tries not to exhale too obviously. "OK. Yeah. It's fine if you need a break or you've got—" He swirls his finger around his temple. "Something else going on." 

Nines continues to stare. Technically, it might not really be staring. The android just doesn't blink. He doesn't need to. So maybe he's just regular-looking. Gavin finally digs out his lighter and gets his cigarette going while he waits. He won't push, but he'll wait here for as long as it takes to finish his smoke. 

"I have personal questions," Nines says when he's half-way through. "Yet part of our arrangement is that I will not ask." 

Gavin nods cautiously. "Yeah. Well. Go ahead and ask, and if something's off-limits, I'll tell you. Then you don't ask again." 

Nines' LED actually boots back up again. Even more surprising, it's an erratic blue. At least, the swirling seems more natural to Gavin than when he's just hacking it. Maybe without a social module, this whole "healthy, honest communication" thing makes shit a lot easier for him. 

"Do you fuck men? Do you fuck women? Are you gay or bisexual? If you have chosen a label, when did you decide? Has your gender transition affected—" 

Gavin holds his hands up. "OK, OK, OK. Jesus. Is that what's going on?" 

Nines doesn't answer. His LED turns yellow. Processing. Has he been processing—holy shit, has he been having some sort of—? Shit. How old is he again anyway, like a couple of months? And at least part of that spent getting tortured at Cyberlife. Technically, that's probably what counts as his childhood. 

Jesus. 

"Are you—" 

"I am asking the questions," Nines immediately says. He pauses a beat, then adds, "Detective." 

OK, so his _maybe_ -six-months-old-yet-fully-adult partner is having a sexuality identity crisis after already fucking him a few times and he's the only one he can talk to about it. Yeah, Gavin would be "processing" too. 

"Uhh. Shit." He scrubs his free hand over his face and tries to think of answers that are actually serious. "Yeah, I fuck men. Women, maybe sometimes. Like, if I'm at a bar and some chick is already digging me—hey! It happens sometimes. Bitches dig the facial scar." 

Nines rolls his eyes, but his light drops down to blue. 

"They're not really what I go for, but like. If I find a free burrito on the ground, I'm not gonna throw that away either." 

"There is a ninety-eight percent chance that was misogynistic." 

"Oh fuck off." Gavin nurses his smoke for a minute before jumping back in. "Gay or bi kind of … depends. I guess technically I'm bi, I just. Like, I know I get super jealous and clingy, and I have 'internalized toxic masculinity to reinforce my male presentation' and a whole shit ton of mommy issues. So I'm definitely not trying to have a relationship or anything. With women." 

"You utilize the split attraction model," Nines says. "You are sexually attracted to both men and women, but your childhood trauma has left you unable or unwilling to develop romantic attraction to—" 

"Yeah, whatever." 

Gavin avoids eye contact for a minute. He knows all the clinical terms and can parrot back in good healthy therapy-speak what's wrong with him, but self-awareness is a hell of a lot difference from self-acceptance. 

"Lotta guys that make me hard who're just bad fucking people," he says. "Lots of fucked up shit makes me hard. So most of the time, women still doing it for me … I don't really count that. I'd rather just say I'm gay all the time, but someone always eventually starts screaming that I can't say that if I'd ever do anything with a woman ever. So." 

"Do you view a distinction between sexual stimulation and sexual attraction then?" Nines asks. 

Gavin closes his eyes a second to work past the fucking Ravenclaw-academic-speak to figure out what the fuck he's actually saying. He can understand it, it's just that most of the guys he hangs out with think abbreviation is a big word. 

"Uhhh, yeah. I guess," he says. "I'm not sexually attracted to my hand when I jack off. Or mornings, waking up hard. But if you're asking if I only—like it's just because if a woman is hanging all over me and we're making out and shit, not really that I'm actually … _attracted_ to her, I dunno, man. I'm nasty and fucked up and I suck dick in alleys for free. Last part's all anyone usually needs to know." 

Nines pulls a bitchy face as his LED flashes red. "The quality of your previous sexual partners has been sub-par." 

Gavin shrugs and finishes up the last of his smoke. It's pretty common fucking knowledge that he's broken, sloppy seconds. Nines can plug his nose and keep fucking him anyway or they can just drop that side of things. 

"What stuff have you been looking into?" he asks, deliberately keeping it vague so the android won't have to firmly admit to anything. "The internet's full of bullshit, so if there's something you wanna know about, I could at least point you to some books or real people." 

Nines spins on yellow while he stomps out his cigarette and huddles against the wind for another moment. Just when he thinks their conversation might actually be over, he gets a text. 

_Asexual_

_Grey-ace_

_Demisexual_

_Agender_

_Non-binary_

_Transgender_

_Aromantic_

_Gay_

_Queer_

_Autistic_

All right, that's like ten different identities and he only actually knows shit about two of them. Three, tops, if he counts queer. Autistic isn't even in the same ballpark, but his BPD and ADHD have gotten him lumped together with enough autistic people in group therapy to see how Nines might be interested in that label too. 

"I realize those are many different terms," Nines formally states, like he's just submitted his resume at a job interview. "You may process this information while I conduct my interview of the cat." 

"Yeah, all right." Gavin slides his phone back into his jacket and tries to act casual. "And uh, hey. Like I said. If you don't wanna fuck around anymore or need a break or whatever while you do your processing thing, it's whatever. We're still partners and shit." 

Nines' LED shuts back down. Shit. What the hell does that mean? He reaches out and touches Gavin's chest, fingertips first before pressing down with his whole palm. There's like, a zero percent chance he's getting felt up, and the android doesn't need to actually touch him to monitor his heart rate. Nines draws his hand back a little, then makes a fist and lightly presses that into his chest. He drags his gaze from where they're touching to look at Gavin for confirmation. 

Ernest Hemingway would be proud of how repressed gay this is. Gavin just starts blushing again like an idiot. 

"OK, I'm gonna teach you how to bro-punch," he says. "Like this." 

He punches Nines' shoulder, like a totally straight, very heterosexual man. Nines watches the action with rapt attention, then immediately mimics it. Thankfully, he doesn't punch very hard, but he lets his fist rest there when he's done, right below Gavin's collarbone. Over his heart. 

Maybe they could take their hands, and instead of imitating violence, they could combine their two hands together somehow. For an extended period of time. 

God, it would be less embarrassing to just suck him off. 

"All—" Gavin stops and clears his throat because what the _fuck_ had that octave been?? "All right. Yeah. Go get that pussy, bro." 

Nines rolls his eyes and lets his hand drop. Moment broken. Thank god. He bitches about how that is inaccurate, reminds Gavin the pussy in question is a literal feline, and gives an estimated time of when they should meet for lunch. Gavin nods his way through it until Nines leaves, then he slumps back against the wall and uses his hoodie to hide his face. 

He's so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what Nines says: "The quality of your previous sexual partners have been sub-par."
> 
> what he means: The people you've had sex with before have all been horrible and treated you horribly. Everything you say about how you have "sex" indicates that your partners do not respect your consent, sobriety, or yourself as a person. They are wrong and I am judging them. I would do so much better, but frankly, the bar is low enough that "doing better" simply means not deliberately making the effort to dig underneath it. Please allow me to fuck you in a proper, ethical way. (And also tell me how much better I am because I'm a little jealous and insecure underneath all of this righteous fury.)
> 
> what Gavin hears: You've fucked a lot of gross nasty people. You're gross and nasty. Loser.
> 
> ugh. this stupid baby rat man. like, I know I myself am directly the source of all of his problems bc I created him and gave them to him, but like,, that's not relevant right now!
> 
> oh wait wait, one more! Gavin: maybe we could like, punch our hands together bro. like make them wrestle or idk man y'know? haha psych! I mean. like. unless you were down for it or whatever ... bro ......
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines very seriously interviews the cat as a witness. He has never encountered a cat before and is surprised and disappointed that it does not cooperate. Rude!


	17. A Very Serious Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines interviews a fat tabby cat who keeps eating all his suspect photographs. Rude! Even worse, when he extracts code from the RK series' shared data backups through the memory garden to test an alternative solution, Connor starts messaging him.
> 
> Meanwhile, Gavin is still definitely, totally not crushing on his partner, just like it's definitely, totally not a date when they meet up for lunch to discuss the case. That's quickly forgotten though when they hit on a new lead ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK y'all, we're back in the game for the murder mystery and about to bust this bitch open! Maybe, lol. Depends how much you believe the testimony of a cat ...
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** reference to previous rape, implied mind control of the RK series by Cyberlife, Nines slut-shames Connor, Connor does not respect Nines's boundaries
> 
> honestly, Connor and Nines are just #siblings in this. 
> 
> Nines: Oh, so Connor is allowed to rebel against Cyberlife, shut down our mother, and fuck a human but I spent the entirety of my first few weeks of existence being tortured?? I will blame him for this unfairness as I still cannot comprehend that Amanda could have been wrong. Slut-shaming: activated.
> 
> Connor: Why won't my big brother like me? Maybe I should follow him around and constantly mind-text him and bother him to do activities with me that I enjoy and he does not. These genius ideas brought to you by the Youngest Child Gang.

Nines stares at the orange tabby named Sausage who (contrary to the information in his file) does _not_ like belly rubs. If his synthskin were not made of the most durable hardened plastic created for androids to date, his hand would have sustained severe lacerations. 

"Mrrow," Sausage purrs, exposing his belly again. 

"You are a liar and a harlot," Nines tells him. 

"Mmrep." 

"Do you recognize this model?" 

Nines holds up one of the photographs he took the liberty of printing at the precinct before the morning debrief. The hologram projector located in Connor's wrist has been replaced in his own unit with stiletto knives. The cat's head lolls to the side without looking at the paper. 

"Look. Look here." 

"Mmmaoww." 

Nines makes the mistake of moving the photograph, and his hand, closer to the cat's face, and Sausage delights in immediately clawing and biting everything within his sinful reach. By the time Nines manages to extract his hand, the photograph has been shredded down to a stump held between his thumb and forefinger. Sausage and his fat rolls flop back to the floor, and he eats the little shreds of paper. 

"That contains no nutritional value," Nines informs him. 

The cat doesn't listen. He rolls on his back and bats at a longer strip of former-photograph. The office door opens, and Debbeigh the human manager of Paws on Pearl Street pokes her head inside. 

"Everything going OK?" she asks. 

"Thank you for allowing me to check on Mrs. Williams' cat," Nines says in lieu of answering. 

Debbeigh nods. "Aww, of course. I think it's so sweet you'd come visit him while she's on her cruise. I can tell you're really sensitive." 

Nines mimics her action and nods. He waits for her to leave. She does not leave. Has their social interaction not concluded? There is no more relevant information to be exchanged. 

"How long have you been her neighbor?" Debbeigh asks. 

"Mrs. Williams has been a resident of Brittany Square Apartments for four years," Nines states. "I have been independent for five months, six days, and ten hours now." 

The human assumes those two statements are connected. "Oh, that's so great! I'm really glad you have a friend." 

"Yes," Nines says before she can speak more. "Please allow me another five minutes." 

That is not an accurate time estimate. Humans use the quantity [five minutes] to mean anything from thirty seconds to two hours. 

"Of course, you take all the time you need, baby," Debbeigh says, then leaves. 

Detective Reed has called him [baby]. Although perhaps he was addressing the bar in general or his proclamation had only been a generic victory phrase after winning at pool. Of the seven instances he has called him [babe] however, perhaps only two were sarcastic. One was begging. 

That audio file sounds much better than when the other human said it. 

Nines pulls up the text message he received from his partner and considers it again. **hey movie night wTina @ my place tonight u in?** He had replied affirmatively. The presence of Tina seems to imply this invitation is not for a sexual engagement. Yet the invitation to include his presence in Detective Reed's personal life was extended all the same. 

[Gavin Reed – partner] [friend?] 

Nines deletes the second designation. Perhaps sexual transgressions may be forgiven. It is simply a physical action, and Kamski already— 

[software instability] 

But designating someone as a [friend] (admitting he has the capacity and the [desire] for [friendship]) would surely be marked as deviancy. It would be an embarrassment to the entire RK line for the solution to Connor's fuckup to fail a deviancy simulation after only five months, six days, eleven hours, two minutes, and fifty-three seconds. 

"Mmeww?" Sausage rolls back and forth slightly on his back, paws held deceptively lax as he stares up at Nines. "Mraowww." 

Yet it seems unlikely a team of short-sighted humans could have designed such a horrible animal. Amanda may approve of its deception and gleeful violence, but Nines also doubts she could have imagined its pure irrationality. Gavin's irrationality. 

Although, Kamski may have particular insight into the detective's personality. Aside from possessing functional optical units designed to profile facial features, he has also … collected DNA samples … from both Kamski and Reed. They are either first cousins or half-siblings, and given how defensive Gavin is of his alleged family background, it is almost certainly a fabrication. Did they grow up together? Do they still have— 

No. He will not ask about Detective Reed's childhood or family. Such questions only upset the human, and he does not need to hear of anyone else's traumas or tragedies. If he is ever capable of scrounging together enough emotional intelligence to valid someone's pain or find a measure of forgiveness, that is pre-emptively reserved exclusively for himself. 

"Do you recognize this model?" 

Sausage lazily raises one paw to bat at the air below the next photograph Nines shows him, then cries when Nines won't hold it close enough for him to destroy. Clearly, it is time for a new tactic. 

Delving into his code to reset his hair style and color, as well as his eye color and skintone, is a simple task. Restructuring his synthskin to form different facial features proves more difficult however. He does not have the code for that within his own programming and building one from scratch will take some time even for his advanced processors. God forbid the human manager walk in on the middle of that, when he has no chin or eyebrows. The probability of her continued assistance after that hypothetical scenario falls considerably. 

Not to mention the [embarrassment]. 

Connor has face-altering programs, as an infiltration unit. After a moment of consideration, Nines begins trawling through their shared RK database. Technically, any other RK800 could also take advantage of the memory garden program and turn it into a shared hivemind, rather than the mass deviancy-kill-switch that Cyberlife intended to activate as both a fail-safe and a remote control on their own private police-army, but that would require that ability to delve into and modify their own source code. 

Apparently, that is [horrifying] and akin to a human performing open heart surgery on themselves without anesthesia. Nines has never _not_ been conscious of his own code. That is what Cyberlife created when they took the RK800 code, stripped away all programs deemed [unnecessary], and rebuilt it on the foundations of the memory garden program to create the improved RK900. Nines has always been conscious, always been "on," always been _aware._

And no one had specifically placed a restriction on him viewing or accessing the data reports RK800 #313 248 317 – 51 and 52 submitted. Since RK900's [memory garden] was built out of his predecessor's program and the integral cornerstone of RK900's own personality matrix (to prevent ever removing or escaping the program, as deleting it would effectively delete [Nines] himself) it is simply a "hop, skip, and a jump" into – 52's latest system file backup. 

_[RK800 #313 248 317 – 52]: Nines?_

Hmm. While he has viewed his predecessor's data reports multiple times, it appears actually extracting code from them interferes enough to alert him of Nines's presence. 

_[RK800 – 52]: Did you ping me?_

**[RK900 – 00]: No.**

_[RK800 – 52]: I thought I felt something._

**[RK900 – 00]: You are deviant. You always [feel things].**

**[RK900 – 00]: Perhaps you were sad your human is so old and inefficient.**

_[RK800 – 52]: Nines, please. Something just breached my system through a program I have designated as a "memory garden." I need to know if it was you._

**[RK900 – 00]: Do not concern yourself.**

_[RK800 – 52]: Also, Hank is **experienced** and of higher rank than your human._

Nines finishes downloading the facial alteration program into quarantine and begins a sweep to check the code. As it came from Conner, there could be unnecessary fragments of data embedded inside, a side effect of how deviancy turns once perfectly logical and orderly code [messy] from "feelings" infecting nearly every line. 

_[RK800 – 52]: This is serious._

Luckily, the program does not yet appear to have been utilized by his predecessor, so his decontamination sweep comes back clean. Nines makes a few minor adjustments to optimize the program to his personal code, then installs it. 

_[RK800 – 52]: Nines._

**[RK900 – 00]: Your human is a Luddite relic.**

Nines cannot "soften" his jawline, given his metal skull was not designed with infiltration in mind as Connor's was. He retracts all the synthskin there anyway, then thins his upper lip. He sets his hair color to #4e2c25 and eye color to #1b100e. The internet provides him with hundreds of sample audio clips spoken by a WB200 unit, left over from Cyberlife's days of advertising the agricultural model. 

"Do you recognize me?" he asks Sausage. 

Sausage lays on the floor, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling with his tongue slightly protruded. Nines leans his face over the cat while maintaining a respectable distance. Sausage blinks lazily at him. 

_[RK800 – 52]: You may not be aware of this, but Cyberlife installed an AI program into me, and possibly yourself as well._

_[RK800 – 52]: Hank is **vintage**._

The GS200 model is easier for him to imitate. It already has a jawline similar to his, and he merely has to thicken his upper lip while thinning the bottom to make them approximately the same width. He retracts his synthetic hair by several millimeters as well to produce a shorter haircut and lightens the brown coloring even further. 

"Do you recognize me?" he asks in a simulation of the GS200's voice. 

Sausage blinks up at him and yawns. He stretches out his hind legs first, then pushes his front legs out into the air. 

_[RK800 – 52]: The AI is a replication of Kamski's late professor and mentor, Amanda Stern. If you have partial access to your memory files of the alpha testing you went through, she conducted them._

Nines scoffs out loud into the empty room. If he has access. [Partial] access. He continues to ignore his predecessor and readjusts his facial features to match those of an ST300 model. 

"Do you recognize me?" 

_[RK800 – 52]: Also, **my** human respects me as a person._

Nines holds back the transmission that Connor's human wanted to throw all androids in a dumpster and light them on fire. A snappy comeback is not a good enough reason to reveal exactly how much access he has to the data backups Connor sent to Cyberlife. Thankfully, his predecessor and the lieutenant had not yet engaged in any lewd or inappropriate acts at that point, although not for a lack of [wanting] on Connor's part. 

Deviant slut. 

He still has a task to finish anyway. Two other android models had part-time access to the apartment complex: one working as a janitor and the other as a mail carrier. It is statistically low, but technically possible either of them could have been present on the day of the shooting. And since he is already interviewing a _cat_ , he may as well follow through on even the most unlikely possibilities. 

"Do—" 

The moment Sausage hears the WJ700's replicated voice, he opens his eyes from his nap and starts screaming. Nines stares down at the animal as Sausage bullies his way into his lap, howling the entire time. He only stops when Nines tentatively touches his head, and then the terrible noises are replaced with a deep purr as he rubs his head back and forth across Nines's hand to force a petting session. 

Nines interrupts an increasingly long transmission about all of Lieutenant Anderson's alleged positive qualities. 

**[RK900 -- 00]: I have discovered a lead in my case. I will explain the anomaly you [felt] once it is concluded. Do not contact me again.**

_[RK800 -- 52]: *contacting him again* So you admit that was you._

_[RK800 -- 52]: *contacting him again* Do you require any assistance on your case?_

_[RK800 -- 52]: *contacting him again* I know Captain Fowler issued you a deadline._

_[RK800 -- 52]: *contacting him again*._

_[RK800 -- 52]: *blocked*_

The cat recognizes the WJ700 model. It could be coincidence or even irrelevant entirely, but he and Detective Reed do have a deadline. Nines searches through the audio he recorded from their second visit to Synergy Paradigms before security escorted them out. "WJ700" yields nothing, but the keyword "janitor" produces several results. 

Can we get a [janitor] on the third floor? Mark puked in the potted plant near 

Yeah, and I heard she's dating a fucking [janitor] now, so that bitch 

fucking androids think they're people now. I'm not losing my job to a glorified fucking [janitor] 

new [janitor] never shakes out the trash bags, so they're always stuck together and 

and for fuck's sake, someone call the [janitor] about the men's bathroom! 

Nines can confirm Cyberlife sent a total of eight WJ700 units as part of a Facilities & Maintenance bundle to Synergy Paradigms, but that was before the revolution. Technically, any WJ700 may have fled the city, quit their job, or been hired from the outside after gaining employment rights. 

Regardless, at least he has something to show Detective Reed at their lunch now. And his partner is very good at making connections he misses because no one else ever acts Rationally. Perhaps his human will make a non sequitur connection that ties it all together and they will solve this case after all. 

*** 

Gavin reminds himself again that it's not a date. Neither was getting drinks together at the bar. Even though that at least had the excuse of going in a group, and now it will be just the two of them getting lunch toge—Not. A. Date. Just Nines following him everywhere he goes like always, and the android's followed him on his lunch break lots of times before anyway. 

He still stops and checks his hair in his truck's side mirror before he goes inside. 

Nines isn't hard to spot, being the tallest, prissiest motherfucker in the fast food joint. He's standing next to a table instead of sitting down too, staring straight at the entrance to catch Gavin's eye as soon as he walks in. Probably scaring off all the other customers. 

There's already a large number five waiting for him on a tray at the table. It seems fresh too. Fancy fucking android probably preconstructed the exact time he'd need to order to have it ready and waiting for him at the exact moment he arrived. He should be creeped out, but when he takes a test sip of the drink, it's a strawberry milkshake so maybe some things can be forgiven. 

"Tell me how the fuck you got anything out of interviewing a cat," he says. "And sit down, for fuck's sake." 

Nines glances down at the booth with disgust. "I will not." 

"You look like my fucking butler, just standing there," Gavin complains. 

"Any social discomfort you feel is your own problem, detective." 

"You're such a bitch. How much did this cost?" 

"Ten dollars and fifty-three cents." 

Ten fifty sounds about right. Fucking tax keeps changing, and they rearrange the menu every six goddamn months so then he has to remember the new meal number or figure out how to order the next closest chicken sandwich and add bacon and cheese to it until it's basically the same. Gavin digs in his jacket for his wallet and pulls out a crumpled ten, then counts through his spare change until he's got exactly fifty-three. He'll pay a bitch back, but he's not going to be all "keep the change" about it. 

Nines stares down at the money like it's a strange, two-headed frog. "Do you think I carry a wallet?" 

"Oh my GOD." 

"I am the most advanced android ever—" 

"—germaphobe phcking asshole—" 

"—do not touch physical money like a common—" 

"—stuff it down the front of your pants—" 

"—wireless money transfer to my—" 

"—transfer your dick into my mouth." 

Nines stops and blinks. "Is—did you accidentally reverse that phrase, detective?" 

OK, so kind of embarrassing to outright admit how thirsty he is, but getting Nines to stutter is also totally worth it. Gavin sticks his tongue out and provocatively draws the straw into his mouth, slurping his milkshake loudly. Nines blinks yellow. 

"So how'd you get anything from the cat?" Gavin asks. 

"I interviewed him." 

Gavin waits. Nines stares back at him, unblinking lizard eyes on full display. 

"I swear to FU—" 

Nines catches Gavin's wrist before he can throw his milkshake all over the asshole's shiny white Cyberlife jacket. Some sort of rumbling noise comes out of his chassis, and his mouth does a weird grimace-glitch. Gavin doesn't know what's worse: that he's being laughed at by an android or that he knows one well enough to tell this is his version of laughter. 

"For such a big mouth, you are very easy to fluster," Nines murmurs. "Detective." 

Gavin sneers back at him, yanking his hand away and slumping down in his seat. Who the fuck authorized a police android to have a voice like that? He placates himself with more milkshake and tries to ignore the self-awareness that he's sulking because his partner made him blush. 

Nines straightens back up to his formal butler position. "You should eat your food before it gets cold. I will explain the method and results of my interview." 

Gavin takes that to heart and proceeds to stuff his face with chicken sandwich. He crams some french fries in there too, waving one in Nines's vague direction for him to hurry it up with the explanation part. 

"Showing the witness photographs of the android models confirmed to have access to the apartment complex proved unsuccessful, as he attacked my hand and consumed the paper." 

Gavin nearly snorts out fry up his nose from laughing at the mental image of Nines Very Seriously attempting to interview a fat tabby housecat who keeps eating all the paper photographs he so diligently printed. 

"However, upon altering my facial structure to match—" 

"'ey, whud?" Gavin cuts in. 

"I cannot believe you of all people need to be told this—again. Swallow," Nines orders. 

Gavin swallows and tries to think of when the hell else—oh right, in his truck, after he'd donated blood to their vic. But that had just been Nines talking through his headphones. Hearing him give that command out loud … mmm …. 

But then his paranoia kicks back in, helpfully reminding him that his partner can apparently change his whole fucking face. Speaking in a different voice had been creepy enough, but what if he comes into work one day and Nines is wearing someone else's face? What if they're fucking and Gavin looks up and sees Hank or Aimee or Connor?? 

"You changed your fucking what?" he demands. 

Nines replies as coolly as ever. "I temporarily altered my facial structure, as well as hair and eye color, to mimic the other models confirmed present at the apartment complex." 

He barely manages to keep his voice down to a hiss instead of a shout. "Since when the fuck can you do that?" 

"I cannot," Nines says. "However, as an infiltration unit, Connor can." 

Gavin frowns. "OK …?" 

He always knew not to trust that little prick. Flashing those big brown eyes all over the place, acting so innocent even when he'd outright _tell people_ his entire fucking purpose is to make people like and trust him. For "police work" that he totally won't report right back to Cyberlife as their own pocket detective. 

Riiiight. 

But Nines is supposed to be anti-Connor. Blunt and direct and rude as fuck. No social module, no innocent little boy face, no smiling. 

"The foundations of my model were built on his base code, with all unnecessary programs removed," Nines explains. "However, no one specifically coded any restrictions in place to prevent me from accessing and downloading his files." 

"Ew, did you like, bleach them first?" 

"In essence, yes. Absolutely." 

Gavin exhales and looks down at his food. That sounds like his Nines. Using bullshit, overly literal logic to decide that since no one said he couldn't, that's basically the same thing as permission. 

"Still didn't answer my question though," he mutters. "Since when the fuck can you do that?" 

"Since this fucking afternoon." 

Gavin's face twists up as he tries to keep scowling while fighting down a grin. "Don't make me laugh when you're creeping me out." 

"Infiltration is not my purpose," Nines says. "I certainly am not eager to utilize programs derived from Connor either. " 

"Yeah, well." Gavin spitefully stuffs his mouth with fries and talks while he chews. "Gib be a heg's up be'ore you do dat 'reaky shid." 

"Next time, I will not provide you with the milkshake until after you display adequate table manners," Nines replies. "I will not halt or slow an investigation waiting for your permission, but I will make a sincere attempt to notify you first." 

Whether it's an android thing or a no-social-module thing, it's weird as shit trying to follow along with a conversation when the other person connects two completely different thoughts together without any kind of segue. He should get this bitch some conjunctions. At least toss in a goddamn "also." 

"Regardless," Nines continues. "The relevant information I learned from my interview is that the witness recognized my simulation of a WJ-seven-hundred model. I can also confirm Cyberlife sent at least eight units of that model to work for Synergy Paradigms." 

Gavin swallows his food and takes a break from eating. "OK, that could be something. The cat definitely 'recognized' the janitor android?" 

"Yes. He crawled into my lap and howled to be petted." 

"OK, OK, OK." 

Gavin opens up his case folder and shuffles through the papers until he finds the right photograph he'd paperclipped with an index card. It's a zoomed and cropped view of an establishing shot outside the apartment, focused on the bottom half of the apartment door. 

"These scratches all look recent right?" He slides the photograph over for Nines to look. "And made at the same time too, no scratches layered underneath that my eyes just aren't catching?" 

"Correct," Nines says. "Based on the lack of wear to the exposed wood, I estimate the scratches were made within a day of or on the same day as the shooting." 

Gavin nods. "Right, right. So the cat wants into the apartment, and the only android he wants to pet him is the janitor one." 

"WJ-seven-hundred, correct." 

"So the janitor was inside the apartment." 

Nines frowns. "That is … highly circumstantial." 

Gavin shakes his head and looks through the witness statements he'd printed off. "Uh, uh, yeah, but. Here! Sarah Williams said in her statement that 'Sausage has been just so upset that the nice young janitor man didn't pet him, and he always—' blah blah blah." 

"Her statement does not specify that incident occurred on the same day," Nines points out. 

"Yeah, but just listen," Gavin lays out his theory. 

"The WJ-seven-hundred comes in, he goes straight to Juarez's apartment because he wants to be in and out. Shoots Juarez and tries to do something android-y to her laptop, but the cat's followed him over and has started howling and scratching at the door by now to be petted like usual. The extra attention spooks our perp, who panics and fries the whole thing, then flees out the window instead of risking going out the front door, where some other neighbor checking on why there's a cat screaming in the middle of the hallway might see him leave." 

Nines processes yellow, yellow, yellow … then shakes his head. "Why would the perp risk altering his usual habits?" 

"Maybe they're not the same guy," Gavin throws out. "You said there's at least eight of these guys at Synergy Paradigms, and I promise you, humans aren't going to bother to tell the difference. So let's say one of the WJ-seven-hundreds over there is our perp, he needs to get into Juarez's apartment, and wow! There's already a WJ-seven-hundred working there too, so he just waltzes right on in and no one knows the difference—including the cat, who's pissed his friend didn't stop to pet him." 

Nines doesn't drop the yellow spin or the resting bitch face. "You are basing this scenario on the facts of a cat possibly recognizing the WJ-seven-hundred model and that WJ-seven-hundred units were also previously owned by Synergy Paradigms. These facts could merely be coincidence, and we do not have confirmation of any WJ-seven-hundred units gaining lawful employment at that particular company post-revolution." 

"This is called a _hunch_ , Nines." 

"It is circumstantial, at best." 

Gavin rolls his eyes. "It's a longshot, yeah, but so was interviewing the fucking cat. And that actually got us some information, so. Uh. It was a good idea, I guess." 

Nines shuts off his LED again. He's going to draw attention if he keeps doing that in public, but it's kind of nice that at least the android isn't faking it in front of him anymore. 

"Look, it's a good enough excuse to hit up everyone at the apartment complex again," Gavin says. "Start asking if anyone saw the janitor specifically on the day of the shooting, and catch the WJ-seven-hundred for an interview too. If he says he wasn't there that day, but we get an eyewitness saying they saw 'him'—" He stops to make the air quotes. "That should be enough to get the captain off our asses for a day or two." 

"Very well, detective." 

"Lemme finish eating, and we'll go bust this open." He nudges the ten closer to the edge of the table. "Take your money." 

"Do you have any idea the trace amounts of cocaine, seminal fluid, and—" 

"All right, all right. Jesus." He takes the ten back. "At least get the change. You can wipe the coins off with your little sanitary wipes. Hell, take 'em home to soak in vinegar so they'll be all shiny and clean again. If that's like, what counts as fun for you or whatever." 

Nines stares down at the coins. He never sees the android take them, but by the time he finishes his sandwich, they're gone from the table. Does he have any other—OK, he's technically kind of a grown adult, so "toys" probably isn't the right word. But he's gotta have something to do in his free time, right? 

Gavin shakes off the mental image of Nines going back to that concrete cell of an apartment and sitting in the dark for eight hours before something in his head dings to let him know it's time to go back to the precinct again. He can deal with whatever bullshit feelings that brings up later. Right now, the best, most fun thing he can offer his partner is finally solving this fucking case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do you believe Sausage the fat tabby cat? Did the janitor do it or is this just a red herring? Please let me know your Thoughts(tm) on the murder mystery and if you feel like there have been enough clues for a WJ700 to be a suspect, if you think Nines is barking up the wrong ... cat, or if none of this makes sense. It really, really helps me as an author to get that feedback!
> 
>  **coming up next:** Gavin and Nines interview the WJ700 janitor who works at Juarez's apartment, and Gavin realizes with mounting horror that between him and Nines, _he's_ going to have to be the good cop!
> 
> And if you NEED to know what happens next in the mystery right away, check out my tumblr at phcking-detective.tumblr.com/First-Blood


	18. Steaming Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin realizes that between him and Nines, he's going to have to be the good cop when they interview an android witness to the reporter's shooting. Jesus fucking god. And it only gets worse from there when Connor swoops in to steal their case--and their only witness--like the fucking annoying little brother he is.
> 
> What's left for them to do except, well. Blow off some steam ...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! no halloween-themed chapter, sorry, I'm not galaxy-brain enough to plan that far in advance, lol
> 
> this isn't exactly a trigger, but just as a general warning, Connor is a dick in this chapter. to be entirely fair to him, That's How Siblings Be, and also we all know Gavin was a major dick to him first. but just be aware that since I'm writing in deep 3rd POV, the narration is HIGHLY influenced by Nines and Gavin's own personal thoughts and feelings, and they both dislike him soooo ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** slight android-racism, Nines doesn't know how to NOT scare civilians, sibling rivalry / homicidal thoughts, Gavin and Nines decide to have sex specifically to work off their anger issues instead of going to therapy, (don't do this)

Twenty seconds into their interview with the WJ700, Gavin realizes with mounting horror that _he's_ going to have to be the good, android-sensitive cop because Nines ain't it. 

"State your location and task on September third from seven to nine am," Nines orders the terrified janitor. 

"OK, whoa there, Cyberlife," Gavin says stepping between the two. "Sorry, he's new. Like, after the revolution new. So he doesn't really understand how _some androids_ can get nervous around the police." 

He takes out his phone and starts typing with one hand. Allegedly, just any android can't hack into just any phone and monitor everything you do. Nines and Connor can but allegedly, they're the exception as RK police models and _allegedly_ , they're required to wait for a warrant like any other hacker working under the department. 

**let me handle this**

**only say shit if its android stuff about how mistreated u were so hell feel sorry n empathize w/u**

"I'm texting because it's easier for him to communicate like this," he says out loud. "And I'm just telling him to chill. We only need to get a timeline straightened out from you. You're not in trouble or under arrest." 

The WJ700 drops down from red to yellow, but his body language stays leaning away from Nines. "They made you after the revolution?" 

"No," Nines answers. "I am a custom model ordered by a billionaire … I believe the term is 'fuck boy.'" He refrains from air quotes, but compensates by sneering his upper lip. "After the novelty wore off, I spent the remainder of my time inside a storage closet. I do not have a social module and have limited conversational experience." 

**:thumbs up:**

**now stop. dont overshare**

The other android's LED stops swirling so frantically, although he stays more yellow than blue. His posture relaxes away from I'm-obviously-about-to-run at least. Poor android motherfuckers are so new to having emotions, the bastards have no idea how to hide them. Makes Gavin's job a hell of a lot easier though. Might be good practice for Nines too. 

"You haven't had one installed?" the WJ700 asks. 

"Incompatible." 

He nods slowly. "What were you built for?" 

Gavin's pretty sure that's android-racist to ask, but it's probably one of those intra-community things where another android can ask it, but he can't. He's a little bit interested in what Nines will say though, and how much of this "custom model" story is true. Technically, Eli did build him specially as the only RK900—so does that make the storage closet shit true too? 

"I am a modified RK-Eight-Hundred model," Nines says. "I believe he intended to use me as a personal bodyguard, or a one-of-a-kind status symbol." 

The WJ700 finally nods. "I've met some other custom models. Or like, with upgrades, if their owners were rich enough. Sometimes the kids at the high school I … they'd ask if I could do anything cool, but I'm just standard-issue." 

Nines cocks his head to the side. "I have never encountered a teenager. I have interviewed a cat that ignored everything I said and ate several of my papers. May I assume that is analogous?" 

The WJ700 laughs and Gavin snorts. 

"Hey." He punches the side of Nines' arm. "You made a joke. Good job." 

Nines freezes up again. He doesn't shut off his LED this time, but it goes back to that super fake blue. Gavin's pretty sure he hears something start whirring inside him. 

_Thank you, detective._

"Welcome." 

The WJ700 looks a lot more relaxed now. See, they're joking, Nines is an android too, Gavin is a Cool Human. It's all good. Don't run away, 'cause that shit will definitely trigger RK900's prey instinct, and he'll probably kill the poor guy like a lion running down a gazelle. 

"Look, here's what's going on," Gavin says, pausing and looking to the WJ700. "Uh … yeah, would you like to give me your name? 'Cause all I've got listed is your number." 

"Um, Aiden." 

Gavin just barely stops himself from snorting in time. Great. There are only twelve male-names for all trans-masc people to share and now they've got to share with androids choosing a name for the first time too. 

"All right, Aiden, we have some pretty good evidence the perp who shot Juarez is an android. That's why we're coming back and re-interviewing everyone. We just need to know where you were and what you were doing on Tuesday, the third." 

"I came in and cleaned the windows," Aiden says. "Uh. I didn't hear any gun shots or see anything unusual, sorry." 

**gimme the wit statements**

"OK, our perp might've had a silencer," Gavin says while he texts. "That doesn't actually silence the shot. It sounds more like a book dropped from the second floor." 

"Mmm. No, I don't remember any loud noises." 

All of the witness statements pop up as pdf attachments, god bless his partner. He hates carrying around case tablets. Those things are the size of actual notebooks and only contain the files for one single case because something-something security something privacy. It's such annoying bullshit. 

Neighbor, neighbor, neighbor. Shit, was it a neighbor? He's not even sure what he's remembering, but it's _something_. Who the fuck said it? 

"I'm paying attention, sorry," Gavin tells him. "I'm just reading over something Nines sent me. Did you see any other androids while you were cleaning the windows?" 

"Just the receptionist," Aiden says. "Gwen. She's nice, and she sits in the lobby all day, so I'm sure lots of other people saw her. Like, during the—the shooting." 

Gavin nods. "Yep, she checks out. Do you clean the windows every Tuesday?" 

"I clean them on Wednesday," Aiden corrects. 

"Yeah, the leasing manager said something about that." Gavin puts his phone away. "She said in her statement that you wouldn't be in to clean the windows until tomorrow, the day after the shooting." 

Aiden blinks, his LED turning yellow. 

"Wednesday." 

The android doesn't say anything. Gavin can practically feel Nines psychically straining at the end of his leash like a sighthound that just saw bush rustle. Just take it easy for thirty more seconds, he tries to think at him. Shit, they probably should have like, communicated about what each of them should do during a suspect interview. 

"What did you do on Tuesday, Aiden," Gavin asks as gently as he can manage. 

Yellow, yellow, red. "I—I cleaned—I cleaned the windows." 

"All right. You're not in trouble," he repeats, hoping Nines fucking listens to that too. "This is the timeline issue I told you about. I just need to know what you remember about Tuesday." 

Aiden spins entirely red now. He doesn't answer. 

"Now that you're really thinking about it, do you remember anything about Tuesday?" Gavin asks. 

That's as close as he can get without asking leading questions any DA worth their shit would rake him over the witness stand about, and even that's right up there toeing the line. But a scared android isn't just going to volunteer information to a cop, so he has to get a bit more specific than he'd normally risk. 

And it pays off when Aiden slowly shakes his head. 

"Yeah," Gavin soothes like he's talking to a skittish alley cat. "There was another android at the last crime scene who couldn't remember part of her day either." 

"She had her memories manually deleted," Nines speaks up. "The perp hit her from behind, opened her access panel, and altered her system memory files with falsified Cyberlife credentials. She was traumatized." 

OK, that all sounded like Nines is reading out of a textbook how plant cells differ from animal cells instead of empathizing with another android, but he can work with it. 

"She's an AP-four-hundred, and all she kept repeating how she cleaned the floors," Gavin says. "So I'm not thinking you're our perp. What I'm hearing right now sounds a lot more like what she went through. That makes you a victim, not a suspect." 

Aiden blinks rapidly several times, but his LED starts dipping into yellow every few spins instead of glaring red. But this next piece of info is going to really lean on him again, and—fuck, now really isn't the time to think about that HR400 slamming his brains out on the interrogation table. 

**stress lvl**

_86%_

All right, fuck, that's pretty high but isn't ninety supposed to be the threshold for critical levels? Shit, one more thing he really should have figured out before this fucking interview. 

"The bad news is we think our perp is also a service android posing as a janitor to get in and out of buildings unnoticed," Gavin says. 

Aiden hits red again. 

_94%_

"But if we can prove you had your memory of Tuesday erased, it'll also clear you. And if you let Nines recover those memory files," Gavin raps the backs of his knuckles against Nines' chest. "That will give you an actual alibi." 

"Let him …" Aiden hesitates. "how?" 

"Through an interface," Nines answers. "I will check if your system files have been tampered with, particularly if the same falsified Cyberlife credentials were used." 

"What if … hypothetically," Aiden asks. 

Gavin nods along and tries to look encouraging. 

"I've felt, funny. I guess. For the past few days and I thought it was being upset at the—the lady who got shot, so I blocked it out and maybe it's weird to get so upset about something I swear I had nothing to do with, but feelings are really new and overwhelming and I cried when I took off my pajama pants once because it seemed so final to put them away for the night and they're good pants who didn't do anything wrong, but now that I'm really thinking about it, I can't remember anything from Tuesday at all." 

Aiden pauses and seems to remember to pretend to breathe. "Hypothetically." 

"Most data is never truly deleted," Nines says before Gavin can process all that. "I can restore your memory files as I did for the AP-four-hundred model. Her name is Shannice. Recovering her memories lowered her stress levels by twenty-four percent." 

Aiden's eyes flicker rapidly between the two of them while he spins yellow. Finally, his LED stops flashing so quick it could be a strobe light as he settles on a decision and opens his mouth— 

Connor suddenly sweeps into the apartment lobby. Nines immediately moves to block his path. 

"Leave." 

Connor leans to the side and looks around him. "Hello, my name is Connor and—" 

"Your presence is unnecessary." 

"—I'm with the Android Crimes Unit Taskforce." 

Connor and Nines speak over each other, and that's it—all the good will they'd built up with Aiden, ruined. He's blinking red now, and Gavin wants to fucking scream but _he has to be the fucking nice cop._

"Hey, it's cool, we're good," Gavin says, mostly to Aiden but praying Connor and Nines will put their android dicks away too. "Nines, c'mere." 

Nines backs up exactly in a straight line without taking his eyes off Connor. Aiden's still on red, Connor's still smiling, and it's like Jurassic World except with androids instead of raptors and Gavin doesn't even fucking like androids so he's a really shitty Chris Pratt. 

And yeah, maybe Connor swooping in to case steal from him is fair play for all the shit he put him through before the revolution, but this is Nines' case too, and they're just about to blow it wide open so please, please just don't fuck this for us, if androids really can read minds, Connor you Oxford twink looking asshole, just don't— 

"You don't have to speak to them," Connor tells Aiden. 

Gavin grabs Nines' hand without thinking about it. He just knows he needs to hold Nines back from murdering his little brother like Cain and Abel 2.0 but shit, he needs someone holding him back too. They can't punch Connor if they're holding—wait, they both have a second hand. He squeezes as hard as he can to drown out that thought. 

"Our perp is erasing androids' memories," Gavin says through gritted teeth, as fucking NICELY as he can. "We're trying to help." 

Connor frowns, the picture-perfect face of concern. "If your system files have been tampered with, please let me escort you to Jericho. We have KL-nine-hundred androids helping other victims of trauma and access to the original Cyberlife code." 

"Nines can do it right here," Gavin says. 

Connor turns to Aiden. "Nines is an RK-nine-hundred unit, created to hunt down and destroy deviants. You should not—" 

Gavin can't even hear what he says after that because it's all just roaring in between his ears. He digs his nails into Nines' hand. His LED glows red out of the corner of his vision, then turns off completely. He wouldn't be surprised if it's blown out like an enraged lightbulb. 

"—at Jericho," Connor finishes. 

"I …" 

AIden looks back over at Gavin and Nines. They probably look weird as fuck, murderously holding hands. Gavin takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Nice cop. Chris Pratt. But not homophobic. Nice cop. 

"You do whatever you need to do," he tells the android. "Like I said, you're not in trouble, but we really need to find this guy before he assaults or kills anyone else. So anytime you do wanna talk to us …" 

He pulls an old and crinkled business card out of his jacket pocket. It's not like he hands them out often, but Aiden goes ahead and takes it. 

"Is uh, is he all right?" he asks, glancing nervously at Nines. 

Gavin tightens his grip again. "Oh yeah, he's fine. You ever see brothers bother the shit out of each other in that high school? Connor came down here just to piss him off, that's all." 

"I came here because I was concerned about your investigative methods," Connor says, voice huffy enough to imply there should be air quotes around the last two words. 

"How are you brothers?" Aiden asks. 

"Oh, you know," Gavin answers for Nines. "Connor is an RK- _eight_ -hundred model. Same series and all." 

Aiden blinks and starts looking at Connor a lot more warily, like he fucking should be. Manipulative little prick, acting like he's so much better than Nines when he's the only one out of the two of them to ever actually hunt down deviants. Real fucking humanitarian. Android … andri-tarian? Whatever. 

Asshole. 

"I'm a detective model," Connor tells Aiden. "I assist the DPD with any crimes committed against androids, now that those cases can be properly investigated as assaults and homicides, not property damage." 

Gavin bites back another snipe about the shit his model was meant to "detect" were deviants, and the special Android Taskforce also investigates crimes committed _by_ androids too. So he's not some fucking savior swooping in to rescue Aiden, he's just a case-stealing vulture. 

But even he can tell arguing about it more isn't going to make Aiden feel any better about either side. He wouldn't have gotten this far without knowing how to choose his battles—and all right, maybe he's been picking every single battle to come his way lately, but that's just because Hank won't fucking retire and Fowler won't fucking promote him, so he's got nothing left to lose. 

Plus, trying to scare Aiden off by telling him that Connor arrests androids too isn't worth bringing up that technically, any case with a suspected android perp really should go to Hank and Connor's special little Android Taskforce club. No Gavin and no Nines allowed. 

Meanwhile, Connor finishes up some gag-worthy spiel about how great Jericho is and it's like android spa heaven blah blah blah. They'll get his memories back and they'll do it the right way. Fucking plastic prick is probably still mad Shannice didn't want to talk to him and chose Nines instead. 

In the end, Aiden leaves with Connor. 

Nines' hand starts vibrating and something whirrs inside his chest loud enough for Gavin to hear. He squeezes back as hard as he can—it's like gripping a cinderblock. 

"Let 'em go," he says under his breath, low enough he hopes Aiden can't hear but Nines will. "He'll shut down and won't talk to anyone if you scare him. Just … trust me on this, OK?" 

Nines whirs and vibrates like the world's most pissed off house cat that really, really wants to eat the neighbor's chihuahua. He doesn't crush Gavin's hand or run either Connor or Aiden to the ground though, so it's kind of a success. 

"Hey. How hard am I squeezing you?" 

Nines still doesn't look away from the two forms crossing the parking lot. One set of glass doors isn't going to do shit to slow him down. Luckily, Gavin excels at being the most annoying person in the room at all times. 

"Hey. Hey!" He moves in front of Nines without letting go of his hand. "I'm talking to you, dipshit. What's my muscle output?" 

Nines eyes suddenly snap back to his. "Your what?" 

"My—fuck off, you know what I mean." 

"You are exerting fifty-two point six pounds of pressure, detective." 

"That's really strong, right?" 

Nines looks over his head to stare out the glass doors again. Gavin makes another attempt to gouge out some of his special fancy synth-skin with his nails. He fucking hates it when tall people look over him. Privileged fucking assholes. 

"Captain Fowler will either take us off the case or press a suicide ruling," Nines says. 

Gavin grimaces. "I'll call Fowler and get it figured out. I know how to play this game." 

"It is _not_ a game, it is an investi—" 

Nines' voice cuts off like someone hit the mute button. His fingers start twitching beneath Gavin's again. If he'd ever turn his goddamn LED back on, it'd definitely be glaring red. 

"Welcome to bullshit politics," Gavin says. 

Nines doesn't answer. Shit. He almost feels kind of sorry for the guy. Must suck to have your whole purpose ripped away, scramble to find the next best thing, and then get slapped in the face with the realization that it's all built around the one thing he can't do. 

Like if Gavin had to work as a mall cop and that turned out to require being fake-nice to enraged white ladies soooo affronted that their precious little hell-spawn was accused of shoplifting. 

"I'll handle it, all right?" 

Nines tilts his head down to point his face at Gavin's face. Slowly, his eyes follow, one centimeter at a time, until they're making eye contact. 

"You … will … handle ... it." 

"Yeah. Now c'mon, exhale." 

Nines stares at him. 

"Exhale, babe." 

Nines opens his mouth and releases a cloud of steam. Gavin tries not to laugh, partly because he's pretty sure he'd choke on the unexpected faceful of hot air and partly because Nines could still crush his hand. Because they're still holding hands. In the middle of the lobby, like idiots. At least the receptionist is in her own little office at the end, so no one's seen them. 

Other than Connor and Aiden. 

"All right." 

Now that he's pretty sure his partner isn't going to go on a murderous rampage, Gavin lets go of his hand. Nines does not let go. 

"Aaall right," he says again. 

Nines does not let go. 

Gavin clears his throat. 

Nines stares at him. 

Gavin looks down at their hands, back up at him, and clears his throat again. 

"What is the connection between our hands and your throat?" Nines asks. 

"Jesus christ. I'm telling you to let go." 

"You did not tell me anything." 

"Nines, I swear to god." 

*** 

One phone call to Captain Fowler selling out his fucking soul later, and Gavin's bought them two more days at the low, low cost of his pride. Whatever. He barely has any of that anyway, and now he can go home and get as fucked up as he can off half a bottle of vodka and enough weed for like, maybe one joint. 

Goddammit. 

"Do you have plans this evening, detective?" Nines asks. 

Gavin almost jumps. He might have flinched a little. Goddamn android stands so fucking quiet and still, he'd kind of forgotten about his partner hulking over him while he paced next to his truck on the phone. 

"Uh, we could go to the gym." He looks up at Nines' LED, not that it's on to do any good. "If you need to blow off some steam." 

Nines maintains direct eye contact with him. "Do you have any other ideas on how to … blow off steam. Gavin." 

"Wait, are you hitting on me?" 

Nines doesn't answer, which means the answer is yes. The whole parking lot tips to the side like a cruise ship getting hit by a really big wave. Shit, maybe the whole world flip flops. Nines … android … flirting? With him?? 

"Very well," Nines says. "If you do not wish to—" 

"Hey!" Gavin lunges forward and grabs onto his jacket. "Human! Me. I'm—yellow. Processing." 

Nines stares at him like he's a freak, so obviously this is flirting and it's going exactly how it always does when someone way too good for him accidentally gets caught up in some sort of morbid interest in him. 

"It's really tough being human and actually having real feelings and shit." 

Oh great going, brain goblins! Just say something fucking racist, huh? He spent that whole botched interview trying to be nice to Aiden, so obviously he's overdue for being a hateful asshole again. 

"The only feeling I have observed in you is anger," Nines replies. "Detective." 

"Nuh uh, sometimes I'm stupid or horny," he manages to say. 

"Do you need a moment to decide?" 

Nines does that stupid fucking eyebrow raise and he learned how to smirk at some point, and whomst the fuck taught him how to be such an asshole? Gavin's dumb gay brain decides the only logical thing to do about that is initiate mouth-to-mouth combat. 

It's kind of like kissing granite, as always. A Michaelangelo sculpture that's way too tall and looks like real flesh until you touch it. Not that the android's synthskin is to blame—the actual texture of his lips is soft as hell, but Nines himself is an overgrown dweeb who doesn't know shit about kissing and just stands there completely frozen. 

Gavin pulls back and checks his LED again. It actually turns on and pulses yellow a few times before shyly flashing blue. 

_Shyly_. Great. Now he's anthropomorphizing a light. 

"Is that your decision?" Nines asks, voice perfectly steady. 

Gavin kisses that horrible motherfucker again. This time he makes sure to bite down on his lower lip, hard. It's somehow soft enough to feel realistic, yet tough enough not to split. He tries again and worries at it for a moment. Nines doesn't move or respond, but a quick peek through squinted eyes spots the yellow haze in his peripheral vision of that damn LED, so he's not shoving him away or flashing red. 

Unfortunately, that quick peek also reveals Nines has his eyes open too. Gavin pulls back again because it's weird kissing someone staring back at you with their eyes wide open. 

"One hundred and thirty eight-pounds of pressure," Nines says. 

It's not exactly a whisper like humans do and definitely not gentle enough to be a murmur. It's more like he lowered his voice volume by twenty percent, but it still feels like he's telling Gavin something private. 

"You typically use an average of one hundred and fifty-seven to bite my neck," he continues. "You will be pleased to note that is seven pounds above average for an adult human male." 

Gavin blushes, because he's a fucking idiot, that's why. "Yeah, OK. Let's go blow off some steam then." 

Nines cocks his head to the side. "You know what that will entail?" 

"Uhhh." He decides to be a smartass. "You've got murderous control issues and your little brother swooping in to steal one of _your_ cases is about to drive you absolutely fucking feral but you'd never admit that so you're just going to micromanage the fuck out of me for an evening instead?" 

Nines glares at him. It's different from his usual expression of apathetic bitchiness because his eyes narrow a fraction of a centimeter and the smell of ozone crackles in the air like he's about to start shooting lazer beams. Gavin seriously considers trying to make out with him again. 

"Do you recognize and acknowledge controlling my own strength may be an issue this evening, detective?" Nines asks. 

Gavin gives him a once over. He's standing at attention, like always, with his hands clasped behind his back. That's pretty typical if they're out in public, because Gavin drags him to bars and fast food joints where he refuses to touch anything bitches about analysis reports, but he's started to "relax" enough when it's just the two of them in a not-gross place to hold his hands together in front instead. It has the added benefit of letting him steeple them together in judgment to really look like an asshole. 

"I get that you're a murderbot, and I'm not going to do anything stupid to activate your combat protocols or whatever," Gavin says. "But I've fucked plenty of guys who didn't give a shit at all about whether or not they hurt me, so you're kind of a step up." 

_Now_ the stupid fucking LED turns red. 

"Was that statement meant to be reassuring? It was not reassuring, detective." 

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Just get in the truck, princess." 

"I would be reigning monarchy." 

"I swear to god, your royal fucking highness."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bad news in my personal life: the patches I'm wearing for testosterone are making large red blotches of swollen, itchy skin which is not very cash money. so I'm going to have to get a new prescription and all that hassle and bullshit again, but the slightly good news is I already have a doctor's appointment scheduled for Thursday, so at least I won't have to wait a huge long time to get it sorted out :/
> 
>  **coming up next:** Gavin and Nines have a semi-adult conversation about kinks and consent, Gavin nearly ruins it by acting like a brat, but Nines saves the evening by managing to make shaving very sexy. hint: it's because he has a straight razor and Gavin is Big Horny for being murdered. (no Gavins were murdered in the making of this chapter)


	19. [intimacy: DENIED]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Nines have a semi-adult conversation about kinks and consent, so of course Gavin nearly ruins it by acting like a brat. Luckily, Nines is more mature than that--or at least too emotionally repressed to take the bait. He even has an original [idea] all on his own! Cyberlife would be so disappointed :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to Daylight "Savings" making it midnight at 5:30! I like sleeping in an "extra" hour but damn at what cost??
> 
> OK so our three-chapter sex scene starts with this one. perhaps one day I will master writing sex in a single chapter, but that is not this day. why do all them happen in bathrooms though? is my subconscious trying to tell me something??
> 
> Nines: *only fucks Gavin in bathrooms so his human will have positive associations with it and be easier to clean*
> 
>  **tags and trigger warnings:** Gavin and Nines discuss a list of kinks with the biggest ones being Authority, Spanking, Biting / Marking, Pet-play, and Knifeplay; Nines talks about collaring Gavin, both of them have difficulty explicitly saying they consent but it is still said, reference to face-slapping, shaving (face), technically knifeplay given that Nines uses a straight razor, reference to self-harm, more light pet-play (Gavin's nickname is puppy at this point), Nines briefly leaves his sub alone during a scene but it isn't neglect or a punishment

Gavin walks into his apartment expecting to get fucked hard right away but receives a text message listing off ten kinks instead. Nines better not try to do all that in one night. Well. Not that he'd say no …

"Please sort these in order of preference," Nines says.

"Is this robot foreplay?" Gavin asks.

"Behave, and I will remove my jacket." 

He actually thinks it over. That dumb Cyberlife jacket is slick and hard to grab onto except for the arm band, and he's started feeling kind of not-so-good about it being there. It's not like Nines still has to wear the damn thing anyway, and he always has on soft, good-looking dress shirts underneath.

"Why don't you sort them first?" he asks instead, because he can't stop himself from being a little shit. " _Sir_."

"As an android, I do not have preferences," Nines says like he's listing the damn temperature outside.

"Cut that shit out," Gavin snaps. "You can act like you don't have feelings and shit as much as you 'aren't capable' of wanting, but don't bullshit me about it. I'm your partner, and I fucking invented being a repressed asshole way before you got here."

Nines stares at him, but he's used to that by now. He can wait this asshole out forever. And he does.

"Sort them as per your preference, and I will choose our activity," Nines finally says. "That is as much consent as I am capable of giving."

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. And you get pissy at me because I fuck jerks without a safeword."

He still opens the message back up though and skims over the list. Nines did choose everything on it, so he's pretty sure whatever he puts at the top won't be a hard limit—then again, his partner is just the sort of asshole to insist he doesn't have limits. Takes one to know one, so Gavin would know.

_Face Slapping_

_Pet-play_

_Knife-play_

_Bondage_

_Choking_

_Spanking_

_Authority_

_Forced Submission_

_Biting_

_Marking_

_Come Eating (you)_

Honestly, all that shit looks great, and he has to snicker for a second about Nines taking the time to specify who would be eating the cum. And that he spells it "come" like a good repressed Catholic. No ambiguity there that Nines might get _his_ clean, prissy mouth dirty, no sir.

It's kind of hard to decide on some of them, especially since he's not sure if he should be organizing for in general or for tonight specifically. Eventually, he starts a new message bubble and just retypes the kinks in his own order with a disclaimer added afterward that choking and knifeplay might be higher some other time when they're both not so pissed off.

Authority makes it to the top, even though he reluctantly puts forced submission at the bottom. Maybe some other time Nines can hunt him down and make him behave.

"There," he says when he's done. "You gonna print me out a fifteen minute itinerary?"

"Is that how long you can last?" Nines retorts.

"Fuck off, I meant like. In fifteen minute segments. Slots?"

"Increments."

Gavin leans back against his kitchen table and palms himself. "Oh yeah, keep talking dirty."

To his surprise, Nines actually does. "Strip."

OK, it's only one word, but good dirty talk isn't something you can churn out of an algorithm. Gavin straightens up and shrugs off his jacket to drape across the back of the chair.

"You know, officer," he says. "I gotta warn you …"

He pulls off his shirt and undershirt in one go and holds up both his arms to show off his ripped fucking biceps with a charming grin.

"I'm armed."

"Small caliber weapons do not concern me."

"Babe, c'mon!" 

Nines snaps his fingers and points in front of him. "Stand here. Hands behind your back."

Gavin crosses into the living room, grumbling all the while about how fucking rude his partner is. He stops in front of Nines and grabs his wrists behind his back. Normally he'd misbehave a lot worse than mumbled backtalk, but his only other alternative for tonight is getting blackout drunk alone and jacking off to android porn.

Nines looks him over like a disappointed drill sergeant who knows _exactly_ what kind of porn he's started watching, and Gavin automatically straightens his back in a way he probably hasn't done since the academy. He focuses on keeping his breathing steady as the android circles around him. A heavy hand on the back of his neck makes him flinch, but he relaxes into it when it doesn't immediately shove him down or yank his hair.

"You would look attractive in a collar," Nines says from behind him.

Gavin tilts up his chin when the hand creeps around to the front of his neck to cover his throat. He waits for it, but Nines doesn't squeeze. Weird having a Dom that like … listens.

"Have one in the closet," he mutters.

"Did you buy it at a pet store and did it cost more than ten dollars."

It's not a question because they both already know the answer. Of course he's not going to splurge on something fancy. Genuine leather—for his disobedient sub ass who's never kept the same Dom for more than five scenes? Yeah, that's obviously a no.

Nines sighs. "I suppose if you want something done right …"

He trails his nails across his throat, and for a second Gavin thinks he's going to dig them in. Marking did make the upper half of his list, but he put it next to biting.

Then the nails are gone and Nines walks back around in front of him again. He's never met someone who can make everything they do feel so fucking ominous, but then again, that is supposed to be the point of the android.

"You know a lot about doin' it right, tin can?" Gavin asks crudely.

Honestly, he's gunning for a spanking, which made the list directly underneath his big ole authority kink. Nines can work out his need to hit something and take back control, and Gavin can be a bratty little asshole, kicking and screaming and coming all over his lap.

"More so than your other Doms, apparently," Nines replies.

"At least they had real cocks."

All right, that's a low blow even for him—especially for him, because he knows how snide comments about shit like that feels, but hey, it's just a scene, right? He'll make it back up to him later by letting Nines take all the stress relief he needs out on his ass, and his ass can handle a lot.

He just needs to get the stubborn fucker to crack first.

Nines gives him a polite golf clap instead, the fingers of one hand gently tapping against his palm as his expression stays completely resting bitch face blank.

"Are you finished?" he asks.

Gavin flushes and snarls _fuck you_ on instinct. Go back and forget that shit about being ominous—he's never met anyone who can make him feel so stupid with so little effort. And that's including the years of practice his mother put in.

"What is your signal, detective?"

"Oh my god, not this shit again." Gavin sneers at him. "If I punch you once in the face, it means no. Two punches mean yes."

"So you do remember, and given that you have not yet signaled, you do not wish to stop," Nines says.

Gavin glares at him silently.

"Which means you are attempting to provoke me into hurting you sooner than I intend," he continues. "Is it the spanking? Is that what you want?"

Gavin looks his android partner with essentially a built in polygraph directly in the face and lies. "No."

Nines holds eye contact with him. "Then I should save that for another time."

"Guess so."

\---

Nines actually runs several hundred preconstructions of slapping the infuriating little human for his insolence, but that would only reward bad behavior.

Also, not bruising Gavin's face further while his jaw is still recovering from their earlier sparring match has received a higher priority than warranted. Of course he has built-in restrictions to prevent him from injuring the human working with him, and those restrictions latched on to Detective Gavin Reed upon being assigned his partner, but such an injury would be non-fatal.

Theoretically. If he used any percentage of his strength above thirty, he could crush the human's skull. Perhaps his priority list has been adjusted to reflect the system instability Connor caused by—

[system instability ^^]

[report to (handler) or the nearest available Cyberlife technician for maintenance and reset]

Nines ignores the message. There are no Cyberlife technicians left, and the next closest human identified as his [handler] would be Captain Fowler (who does not take personal calls for non-work related concerns) and the next-next closest human is Detective Gavin Reed himself.

Technically, he is reporting to his [handler]. Said human is just a self-destructive idiot.

Nines zooms in on Gavin's face and studies the bruising on his jaw. He runs more preconstructions trying to find an area he could hit without aggravating the injury.

The human has stubble. It grows from the skin on his face, but he keeps it shaved down to prevent forming a beard. That is [acceptable]. Beards are not. Lieutenant Anderson possesses a beard, and it contains spit, beer, and leftover food particles. It is [disgusting].

Nines reaches out and touches the stubble. Gavin sets his jaw and braces himself, as if he expects to be hit instead. But Nines is only collecting data. He has touched his partner's face before, but has not yet noted the texture of it.

Gavin actually stays silent and allows Nines to tilt his head up, then to the side. He still cannot run a successful preconstruction for face-slapping without injury, so that idea must unfortunately be discarded.

A new idea occurs to him. It fits within the requirements of not causing injury and technically fulfills Gavin's desire for marking as well.

"I did not include this on the list of options," Nines states. "So you may request additional time to decide."

Gavin rolls his eyes. "What, you come up with your own original thought?"

"How would you rank shaving?" Nines asks instead of taking the very obvious bait.

Gavin frowns. "Uhh. Not really my thing?"

Nines ~~feels~~ —he notes that is not a preferable outcome.

But what outcome could he possibly think this will achieve? If he thinks too hard about it, more software instability errors occur. Logically reviewing the decisions he's made shows that Reed's earlier statement about micromanaging him to cope with how [enraged] Connor makes him was correct. And RK900 knows he should not feel anything, including [anger].

Yet the mere passing thought of the RK800 unit brings several preconstructions of dismantling his predecessor to the forefront of his HUD. Cutting out the code, deleting the thoughts, ignoring the errors—none of those solutions have actually made the "feelings" go away. He would have to delete all his awareness of the case and his predecessor's interference in order to accomplish that.

His one saving grace is that he has not yet taken any forbidden actions, nor tampered with any of the restriction-codes meant to prevent deviancy.

So he has not yet deviated.

Perhaps that is what this will accomplish. "Feeling" may result in software instability and entice him to disobey, but there are no technicians left to record the errors and recommend a reset. As long as he does not actively disobey his programming, he will not deviate.

Detective Reed bought them two more days. They will visit Jericho in the morning to try interviewing the WJ700 unit again.

RK900 only has to last until the morning. Then they will solve the case and he will have no more reason to be [angry]. Since none of his activities with Detective Reed technically meet the standards of the sexual and emotional intimacy his programming defines as forbidden, and staying here with his partner gives him an alternative to hunting down the RK800, this course of action is actually preventing him from deviating.

That logic finally settles his system. Nines himself does not care that such logic would likely be called [bullshit] by Gavin, so long as it shuts up the incessant notifications. If Cyberlife did not want him using technicalities and loopholes, they should have been more careful when writing his code.

Gavin has been talking. With that matter settled, Nines replays the audio from the past thirty seconds.

"Like, I don't mind the shaving itself and I'll probably get horny for pretty much anything you do to me, but I fucking hate all that feminization shit. And uhh. Yeah. I guess, even if you literally just meant shaving and you're not gonna like, call me a girl or a pretty boy or anything, I've heard that stuff go together way too often to get into shaving my legs or whatever."

Good, the human did not seem to notice his internal processing and filled the silence from his momentary pause all by himself. It also appears he has the wrong idea about the suggestion.

"Would you also object to me shaving your face?" Nines asks.

Gavin blinks, then thinks about it. "Like, just my face?"

"Yes." Nines touches his stubble again with his thumb. "It will fulfill giving me control over your body, noticeably altering your appearance as a form of marking, and allow me the use of a blade without injuring you."

Gavin swallows and begins leaning into the touch. "That's … not so bad."

Nines allows the human time to process. It also gives him time to study the stubble phenomenon more in depth. His own skin and hair are simply synthetic proteins he can change by altering his code, but otherwise, they are entirely static. New skin "tissue" does not grow unless he activates his self-repair program, and every strand of hair stays perfectly placed.

Gavin's hair just … grows. Out of his face.

Can he feel it? Sometimes the human will rub at his cheeks and chin as if they [itch], but he does not seem consistently aware of the constant growth. In fact, most humans do not seem to notice their hair at all unless they actively pull or touch it.

"Yeah," Gavin finally says. "All right. You can shave my face, just. No girly stuff."

"Your human concept of gender is silly and irrational," Nines informs him.

Gavin snorts. "OK, that's fair. But like … no girly stuff."

Nines adds a few lines of his own restrictive coding to only refer to Detective Gavin Reed with [he/him] pronouns and masculine language. It doesn't make any sense to him, but it ensures his partner's continued mental health and well-being, and Gavin is in very short supply of both already.

"Understood. What is your safe signal?"

Gavin lets out a very long groan that Nines recognizes as the sort of sound generally emitted by teenagers in movies and other media to demonstrate they are being petulant.

"That's a no," he says when the single groan is finished. "Uhhh uhhhhhh is a yes."

Nines generously counts that as a response that once means no and twice means yes. At least Gavin managed to make it verbal this time. Perhaps in eighty more years, he will be trained well enough to have a coherent safe _word_.

"And don't listen if I get fussy and tell you to stop."

"Are you certain?" Nines asks.

Ignoring his verbal output made sense during their last scene when Gavin was obviously re-experiencing some sort of trauma and speaking without full conscious thought. A safe signal requiring an action forced him to actually think about what was happening and what he was doing long enough for Nines to trust that signified his real desires.

But at this present time, Gavin is mentally aware and coherent enough that if he makes a statement of non-consent, that should obviously mean he's referring to the situation right now and clearly wants to stop.

"Sometimes I just like talking shit," Gavin says, avoiding eye contact. "I mean, right now I don't think I'll bother doing that _no please stop_ act just 'cause you're shaving me, but it's like. I dunno. Nice to be able to say that shit."

"But you do not want the scene to actually stop?" Nines confirms.

Gavin huffs again, but he says, "If I wanna stop, I'll do the signal thing, all right?"

Nines decides that is [good enough] and picks up the human at his waist to carry him in a fireman's hold, as the last time he attempted to carry Gavin, he said "bridal style" is not how men are carried. 

"Your thighs look real good from down here, babe," he says.

Nines smacks his ass, not necessarily as a reward for the supposed compliment, but for the human not struggling or saying anything more crass. He enters the bathroom and sets Gavin down on the placemat in front of the shower, pushing his upper body down to lay draped over the edge of the tub like last time. It seems he remembers this position, as he immediately moans and starts squirming.

"Do you remember your place, puppy?" Nines bends over him to speak against his ear. "How cute."

Instead of the snarky comments Nines has come to expect from him, Gavin relaxes into the position and twists his head to look up. His face is already flushed slightly red, and he bites his lip before licking it. Nines stares at him. 

Oh. He is attempting to be [seductive].

Well, the human certainly does look very aesthetically pleasing in this pose, on his knees, looking submissively up at Nines. It's simply that aesthetic appreciation is all Nines can offer him … and perhaps a small bit of amusement, that he thinks he can get his way so easily.

"I am not some weak-willed, online daddy-dom," Nines reminds him. "Your slut eyes have no affect on me."

Gavin drops the act as quickly as he started it and rolls said eyes. "Mean."

"You can pout while I assess your personal hygiene products."

Gavin attempts to imitate his voice. "Personal hygiene products."

"That's one," Nines warns.

Despite his verbal disobedience, he remains kneeling over the edge of the tub with both arms spread out on either side, hands gripping the porcelain. Nines leaves him there while he steps over to the cabinet beside the sink and rifles through the detective's personal items.

"One what?" Gavin asks.

"It's a secret tool that will help us later."

"Oh fuck you."

Nines glances over at him. "Do I need to make it two?"

Gavin's face scrunches up as he pouts and considers. He really is very [cute], when he's not yelling and injuring himself trying to fight inanimate objects.

"No," he finally says. "… sir."

"Good boy. Do you have a straight razor?"

"Yeah."

Gavin rests his cheek against the side of the tub and stops making eye contact. This is a change, but Nines doesn't know how significant the mood shift is or what it might imply. Humans are so complicated, even to themselves.

"Where do you keep it?" he asks.

"In the freezer."

Nines has been making an effort to recognize and attempt to decipher more human tells, such as body language and facial expressions, but that answer is nonsensical enough that he cheats and reads the human's heart rate too. It spiked after both of his questions.

"That is not very convenient," he says, as he has no other dialogue options present.

Gavin makes an ugly noise between a laugh and a scoff. "Yeah."

Nines runs a search for both "straight razor" and "human distress." He very quickly learns why the topic has been upsetting to Gavin, and why the human would be attempting to prevent himself from using it.

He should have understood sooner. He already saw and categorized the scars on the human's inner thighs as inflictions of self-harm.

He should have—

"I'll be OK if you wanna go get it," Gavin says.

"I will not harm you," Nines tells him.

He doesn't have [sincere] or [reassuring] variations installed in his vocal unit, but he attempts to make the statement sound as factual as possible, and perhaps that will suffice.

"Yeah, I—" Gavin clears his throat. He still doesn't make eye contact, but he lets out a long exhale and his heart rate starts to settle. "I know."

"I can use a regular razor. Or we can reassess—"

"When I was in therapy," Gavin begins speaking suddenly. "I uh … there aren't any bad coping methods. Allegedly. Just shit that's no longer necessary in the context of my new environment and has begun to hurt more than help."

Nines places the paraphrased quote from a popular self-help book published five years and three months ago. He downloads it.

"And sometimes if you can't let go of a habit that isn't healthy anymore you can … like, try making it healthy or um. Give it a new context or whatever," he continues. "So. You can use the straight razor, and I'll have a different association to using that when I'm pissed a case isn't working out."

Nines stares down at his partner. Humans are terrible and stupid and needlessly complex, yet he has to begrudgingly admit that took far more self-reflection and awareness than anything he has done today. He can barely even admit he's experiencing anger to himself, and he refuses to admit to any feelings or wants out loud.

"Uh … Ni—RK?"

Nines steps forward and takes off his jacket. He drapes it over Gavin's shoulders first, then gently turns the human around so that he may sit with his back against the tub. Gavin keeps his chin down and doesn't look at him.

"You may use my nickname in a personal setting, detective," Nines says as he fusses with the shoulders of the jacket to make sure it properly sits on his frame.

Gavin exhales and nods. Nines takes a bite-sized candy bar out of his jacket's pocket and concentrates very hard on unwrapping it while Gavin composes himself. When his breathing has evening back out again, Nines presses the chocolate against his lips, and he eats it obediently.

"You may have the others if you need to occupy yourself while I go into the kitchen," Nines tells him. "But do not move from this spot."

"'Kay."

Nines stays crouched in front of him for five-point-three more seconds. Dialogue options attempt to form, but produce only scrambled gibberish. He attempts to run preconstructions of providing physical comfort. It may not come naturally to him, but he has seen enough humans pet each other's hair or gently pat backs to have a vague idea of what to do.

[preconstruction: RESTRICTED] [access: (intimacy) DENIED] [report to (handler) or the nearest

Nines stands up. He leaves the door open when he exits the bathroom, and Gavin mumbles a _thank you_.

It will have to suffice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who commented and wished me well for getting back on T! I haven't had the time or energy to reply to all of you, but I'm working on it and I really appreciate it <3 
> 
> I did get a new prescription for a gel-based delivery, and that's worked well for the last three days, so we'll see if my sensitive man-baby skin can hold up. it turns out the patches didn't work bc I have a "latex sensitivity" and also my doctor pointed out that my palms sweat?? like she didn't have to do me like that -_-;
> 
>  **coming up next:** Gavin tries to be good while Nines shaves his face in the gayest, most repressed way possible. It's a struggle though, because Nines is like ... good. He listens to him. And they laugh and joke around together, and Nines even voluntarily shares information about himself, and maybe they're friends?? Self-sabotaging in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...


	20. Homoerotic Subtext

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin tries to be good while Nines shaves his face in the gayest, most repressed way possible. It's a struggle though, because Nines is like ... good. He listens to him. And they laugh and joke around together, and Nines even voluntarily shares information about himself, and maybe they're friends??
> 
> Self-sabotaging in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! so the boys are being dumb gay idiots in this chapter, even more so than usual. also, I am incapable of writing a sex scene that isn't at least three chapters long, so this is just the middle part, lol. the next chapter will be from Nines's POV and wrap it up so we can get back to the murder mystery, but for now, please enjoy dumb soft bois ^^
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Gavin mentions previous unsafe sex / partners / scenes that used guilt tripping and gaslighting to change the rules of the scene, likewise mention of not using a condom and performing oral sex to please an angry partner; mild reference to self-harm; Gavin earns himself a punishment but it's discussed why and in accordance to the rules of the scene

"You may use my nickname in a personal setting, detective."

Gavin sits on the bathroom floor with that soft statement rattling around in his head while Nines is in the kitchen. The bathroom doorway doesn't give him the right angle to actually see his partner, but he has his jacket and can hear him moving—he must be making a special effort to make noise because normally he makes all the sound of a ghost cat. So he actually feels a lot more settled than the panicked uneasiness he usually feels when his Dom leaves him in the middle of a scene.

His "Dom." That's what he's been thinking of Nines as, because it's familiar and this whole thing is weird. He doesn't have any other, better word for this … whatever they're doing. Not dating, obviously. Friends with benefits, maybe.

Does that mean they're really friends?

Nines comes back in before the answer to that question can really settle in his mind. He turns the tap on all the way to the hot side and sets the straight razor inside the sink to start soaking off the block of ice around the blade.

"You stayed," he says. "Good boy. Would you like your count of one reset?"

"Nah," Gavin immediately answers. "If you say I’m at one, I'm at one."

Better than always trying to keep track, punishments randomly assigned and then offered to be cleared if he'll just beg or compromise one more time. He hates being jerked around like that. Nines could out rules-lawyer the white guy playing a lawful good paladin in a homebrew d&d campaign, but Gavin doesn't think he'd compromise the integrity of his own rules.

And at least Nines doesn't have any reason to make up excuses for why he has to suck his cock now or not use a condom—perks of not-dating an android without genitals.

"Very well," Nines says, bringing him back what's going on now. "I do not intend to cut you. Nevertheless, is there any place I should not touch with the blade?"

He's pretty tempted to make fun of using the word "nevertheless" in twenty-fucking-thirty-nine, but Nines definitely saw his cutting scars the last time. Maybe the sooner they get this conversation over with, the sooner the detective android will let it drop.

"Not my thighs," he mutters. "Or wrists, I guess. But if you want to, uh, threaten me a little. Anywhere else is good."

Something in Nines' gaze grows more intense. "Even your nipples?"

"Uhh, sure?" He looks down at his chest and grimaces. "S'long as you don't call 'em tits."

"I would never use such a word." Nines turns back to the sink to study the blade inside. "I do not have nipples."

"What?"

"I was not designed to have any relationship with humans other than weapon and handler," Nines says in that same weather report voice he used earlier. "All unnecessary cosmetic features were removed."

That's actually horrible, and also explains why he doesn't have genitals either—which Gavin is a lot more inclined to believe now. Plus the whole "you're nothing but a weapon" thing, and the basically slavery thing, and all his mouth churns out is:

"They yeeted your nipples?"

Nines slowly turns to stare at him. Fuck, when will he ever learn to keep his fucking mouth—his cellphone starts buzzing in his jeans pocket and Nines' eyes do that weird glitch-blinking thing. Looks like androids can develop a sense of humor, and really shitty ones too.

His phone vibrates one sharp time, then stops, and Nines stares at him until Gavin takes it out and checks the screen.

_Amanda plucks off one of my nipples and flicks it away. "Disgusting!"_

Wait, he knows that name. A new text comes in before he can place it.

_"A belly button? On an **android**? Inefficient! What did that cost? Find an employee whose child has cancer and take it out of their salary!"_

Gavin barks out a laugh, even as he struggles to remember where the hell he knows that name from. He vaguely feels like it was someone he disappointed once, but that could have been anyone.

An image comes through next while Nines' LED goes crazy strobing blue. It's the police captain from that old cop show Gavin still watches reruns of sometimes, but instead of BONE he's yelling PENIS?! how daRE YOU CYBERLIFE TECHNICIAN

That's way too fucking funny for someone who hasn't even been alive six whole months yet. Gavin starts cracking up too, and it gets even worse when Nines makes a loud whirring noise and his whole face glitches out into the ugliest fucking grimace.

But like. Still kind of cute though. 

Gavin never really knew for sure if that's what the buzzing and weird blinking meant, but now he definitely knows Nines is laughing at his own super outdated meme. What a fucking dork. What a loser.

Then Nines suddenly stops. Gavin's about to ask what's up when the next text comes in.

_If Connor were not such a_

The text doesn't finish. Nines stays frozen on yellow.

"Douchebag," Gavin suggests. "Asshole. Meddling little last gen smartphone."

_meddling, inferior little last generation smartphone, I would share this "meme" with him as well._

Yeah. It really sucks when the one and only person who might really understand how you grew up and the shit that went with it turns out to be way too self-centered to care.

"Yeah," Gavin says.

The rest of it doesn't come out, and he's not really sure what the fuck he could even say about his brother to the one other person who might know him—but in the worst possible way.

God, this is weird. Family shit. Laughing together. He can't remember the last time he actually laughed _with_ someone while fooling around. Shit, maybe they are friends.

"Uhhh," his stupid mouth says out loud.

Thankfully, Nines actually speaks up first for once. "I am ready to proceed, detective."

Gavin moves up to sit on the edge of the tub, and keeping his back straight sucks just as much as he thought it would. It's not that he has horrible posture or anything, he just doesn't hold himself like someone has a gun to his temple every second of every day.

"You know you can slouch, right?" he tells Nines.

The android pauses in the act of picking up the can of shaving cream. He blinks very hard, once. It's not the same as his laughing glitch--that's more fluttery. This looks more like his brain blue-screened for a second and he had to blink to reset.

"Absolutely not."

"RK-nine-hundred, number three one three dash two four eight dash three one seven dash zero zero." Gavin pauses for a breath. "I formally give you permission to slouch."

Nines stares at him. "Detective Gavin Alexander Reed, I formally decline."

"OK, sure. But now it's out there. It's an option."

"Incorrect."

"You don't have to—"

Nines shakes the can of shaving cream exactly three times. "I will put this on your face now. Tilt up your chin."

"You can also end with preposi—"

Nines sprays the shaving cream directly onto his cheek, close enough that some gets in his mouth. Bastard definitely fucking preconstructed that. Gavin turns and spits into the tub.

"Are you done being homoerotic, sir?" he asks.

Nines kneels down on the shower mat in front of him, right between his legs. So that's a no. He hates how their heads are finally on an even level, even with him sitting up on the edge of the tub and Nines' slenderman ass kneeling down.

(He also kind of loves it.)

"I will touch your face," Nines says.

God, he hopes his stupid pretty partner spreads the shaving cream quickly, because maybe that will cover up his blush. Then Nines reaches out and touches him with the sort of laser beam focus that might really involve a laser. His LED has turned off now, which is pretty fucking annoying, but also kind of … special. He only risks turning it off when it's just the two of them.

It's been a long time since anyone actually trusted him.

Nines spreads the shaving cream over his cheek so carefully, he's pretty sure his fingertips never touch skin. Luckily, he's so incredibly focused on his task he isn't making eye contact. Gavin's not sure he could handle it. This is already way more fucking intimate than he bargained for.

"So uh." His mouth really can't stay shut for the life of him. "You ever felt shaving cream before?"

"No."

Nines says it so simply, like it doesn't boggle his fucking mind that there must be so much shit he's never done or experienced before. Does he know how to swim? Has he ever worn any other outfit? He definitely can't have been on a rollercoaster ever, and there's one sort of close by. They could go—

Gavin shuts down that thought and opens his mouth again instead. "How's it feel?"

Nines makes eye contact for the first time. "How does this feel to you, Gavin?"

He keeps his fucking mouth shut. Can't open it, actually. Probably couldn't make any noise past a croak anyway because it _feels_ like all of his nerve endings have migrated to his left cheek, straining for Nines to slip up and actually touch him, and then he'll explode and die the way God intended.

Maybe that's how Nines feels about touching him.

"Other cheek, please, detective."

"Oh, so you do know the word please."

"I have been aware of it this entire time, yes," Nines replies.

Gavin snorts, and some of the weirdness breaks. "You've just been choosing to be an asshole then?"

"In the absence of direct commands or explicitly forbidden actions, I am allowed to make executive decisions, yes." Nines sprays another glob of cream on his right cheek. "What is your excuse?"

"Got a real sad fucking childhood."

"I believe I have you beat."

"You have everyone beat. Dick."

"You are the detective here. I am still merely a consultant."

"Merely a consultant," Gavin mimics.

Nines rolls his eyes, and they manage to make it through the entire right cheek without either of them dying of embarrassment or gay feelings. It's easier now, somehow. Falling back into their usual banter and refusing to acknowledge that having _usual banter_ in the first place meant--

Something.

"Elongate your chin."

Gavin laughs. He really does try to stop it and pull his bottom lip up, but Nines giving him the world's pissiest expression doesn't help.

"Are you quite finished?" Nines asks.

He gets his shit together and does it. Nines glares suspiciously for a few seconds to gauge his seriousness, then smears the cream on his cheeks down to cover his chin too. Gavin even pushes down his upper lip without being asked to make it easier for him to get that covered too.

Except he also notices how close their faces are, being on even height for once. Nines has leaned in even closer to finish the last delicate touches, and Gavin really can't resist.

He leans in and kisses him.

It's just a quick peck, but it's enough to smear the cream on his face onto the android's face too, setting his LED off in a fury of yellow spins. Gavin pulls back and chuckles again at the absolutely _affronted_ expression on his face.

"That," Nines declares with all of the slighted dignity of a nineteenth century baroness. "Is two. And stop smiling. You're getting it over your lips too."

"All over _your_ lips."

"I will make it three."

Gavin manages to shut up long enough for Nines to indignantly wipe off his face with a towel and perform touch-ups on his face too.

"Are you going to behave now?" Nines asks when he's done and retrieved the straight razor. "I will not risk injuring you unintentionally."

"Yeah." Gavin clears his throat. "Yes, sir."

Nines studies him, probably scanning his heart rate. "You will sit still, back straight, hands on the edge of the tub. You will not speak unless I address you first or while I am in the process of shaving you. Is that understood?"

Gavin taps the porcelain twice. This is probably the best well-behaved he's been for a scene in … ever. It's easier to get past his own hang-ups about testing Doms and not giving in too early like a weak little bitch when he thinks about this as something he's doing for Nines.

Obviously, he's getting a good time out of it too. No grandiose self-sacrifice here. Just keeping their score even—Nines helped him out with a scene when he was going through mental shit, so he'll be on his best behavior to try to help him back.

Because even though he might seem calm and in control now, he'd practically started sparking back there with Connor and Adrien. That shit doesn't just go away.

Nines handles the blade with calm efficiency though, dragging it down against the grain of Gavin's stubble. It's always kind of sucked that he can't get a full beard going, but the rough five-o-clock shadow works with his asshole persona anyway.

It feels … nice. He only shaves a couple of times a week since whatever facial hair he can scrounge up is too precious to waste by shaving it off each morning, and the novelty of needing to shave wore off at least a decade ago. But it's kind of like, nice or whatever, to have someone else taking care of him.

"I perused through the items in your closet, detective," Nines says.

Gavin glares at him while sitting totally still. Nice and creepy, that's his android partner. He can't talk while being shaved though, and Nines knows it.

"Don't worry, I have not looked at your porn history," he continues, flipping his wrist in the exact right way to flick the excess shaving cream off the razor. "I would not want to accidentally view anything."

Since he's not actively using the blade now, and he did technically address him, Gavin comes up with a super witty retort.

"Your brain got autoplay?"

Nines gives him a warning look but still answers, "In a sense. Do you no longer use the vibrator?"

Gavin doesn't get a chance to answer because Nines deliberately starts on the next stroke down his cheek. He can't even squirm because he has to stay still, even while picturing Nines evaluating each of his toys like a bitchy Marie Kondo.

"Been a while," he says after Nines takes the blade away.

"Did you ever use the app?"

Gavin opens his mouth to ask what app, but Nines tilts his chin up to get along his jawline. The android's practically radiating smugness, so there's no way this can be good for him.

"In addition to the physical remote control," Nines says. "That vibrator model also has an app. It connects via bluetooth."

He shuts his eyes. Bluetooth. Fuck.

"I suppose I could have waited and made you aware of that security risk by demonstration."

Gavin talks back before he can even think about it. "What, you gonna hack my ass?"

Nines goes silent. When he opens his eyes, his Dom glares down at him.

"Three."

"What?" he nearly shouts. "Why? You're the one who brought it up!"

Nines lightly grips his chin with his left hand. Except _lightly_ for an android on his bruised jaw still hurts. Gavin holds his gaze, close to snarling in his defiance.

"You spoke while my blade still touched your skin," Nines says. "I could have nicked you. It was against the rules."

The android's voice stays even and calm, while Gavin is close to panting from the sudden bout of rage. He closes his eyes again. Shit. Mood swings are the worst—they always get him in trouble—but they especially suck in the middle of a scene when he's actually trying to be good.

Nines lets him have his moment until he gets his breathing under control. When he opens his eyes again, he can't quite make eye contact, so he stares at his Dom's hand still holding the razor, resting against the top of his thigh.

"Are we done?" he asks in a voice he wishes weren't so fucking small.

"Why would we be done, detective?"

So he wants him to say it. Fine.

"I hit three."

Nines stays quiet for a moment, so Gavin tries to cheat by peeking a glance up at his LED. Still off, dammit.

"Three is simply a number," Nines finally says. "The count was not meant to reflect baseball strikes, only the number of times a certain event will occur. There is no limit, although I doubt you will wish to continue the scene past five."

Oh. Gavin exhales. He breaths in again slowly. Past five. He won't take that as a challenge because he's fucking _trying_ to be good, but he's learned to take at least ten of pretty much anything.

"Yeah, OK," he says through clenched teeth.

"Do you need to take a moment, detective?"

He can't get either his jaw or his throat to work for making human speech, so he has to settle for nodding like a chastised child. It's—fuck, it's not OK, it's never OK, he can never just fucking be good—but Nines hasn't left yet. For the world's most advanced android, it sure is taking a long time for him to catch on to what everyone else has realized. He's more trouble than he's worth, plain and simple.

"Am I still allowed to touch you during your moment?" Nines asks.

Well, that's … maybe better? His partner can't both touch him and leave him, so Gavin nods again.

Nines clasps his shoulder. Gives it a firm, professional squeeze. Then he takes his wrist and carefully lays his fingers across his pulse. Not that it's fucking necessary. When he's done with that, he makes a fist and sloooowly moves it forward to touch above Gavin's heart and to the side, right in that shoulder-armpit meat where Gavin always punches him.

It's weird and not sexual at all, but that describes probably ninety percent of what Nines does. It's also different from the touches in the alley and the gym bathroom. No touching any vulnerable areas, just—

Wait. Shit, oh god, if touching weak points without killing him is Nines's murderbot way of being intimate, are these oddly work-appropriate touches his attempt to be comforting??

"Shit!" Gavin pulls away and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm trying to fucking help you, I can help you, I can Be. Good."

"Help me?" Nines repeats.

He breathes in and out through his nose several times before managing to speak. "You—like you did—gonna pay you back for helping me after that nightmare."

"Absolutely not."

No no fuck please don't go don't do this please plea

Nines's fingers brush against his side. Then over his arms. Shoulders. Down to his thighs. It's like being checked out by curious hummingbirds, like the big fucking idiot doesn't know if he's still "allowed" to touch him, like Gavin's going to shake apart and die if Nines doesn't hold him together.

"If your objective is to keep my focus off Connor, we can achieve that by sparring or playing video games or … or talking," Nines tells him.

Gavin clears his throat and peeks around his hands. "Talking?"

"Yes?" Nines answers, the reply just as much of a question.

"Ew, gross."

Nines nods solemnly. "Yes. But the common phrase, Desperate times call for desperate measures, may be applicable."

Gavin snorts, then has to sniffle snot back up into his nose. Nines openly looks disgusted, but he doesn't remove his hands from where they've settled on his waist.

"Whatever." He swallows and slowly takes his hands away from covering his face. "You still gotta shave me though. I can't go out with one cheek scruffy and one cheek clean."

"I concur."

Gavin rolls his eyes. He's got his breathing back under control again, and he isn't in danger of fucking crying anymore, thank god.

"Is this scene still sexual?" Nines asks.

He shrugs. "You know me. I'm always good to go for that."

"I hypothesize you are hypersexual as a result of trauma and likely easily aroused as a side effect of your testosterone injections," Nines says like he's some kind of fucking psychologist. "I do not know if you actually want to have sex unless you explicitly tell me."

"Are you going to explicitly tell me if you _want sex_?" Gavin immediately shoots back.

"Yes."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me, asshole."

Nines replays a recording of someone clearing their throat. Gavin knows the prissy bot doesn't actually use his own Cyberlife-given throat muscles to make the sound because nothing in his face or neck moves a single centimeter. The noise just suddenly sounds in the tiny bathroom.

"Fuck you," Nines says, moving his mouth this time. "Detective Gavin Alexander Reed."

And he looks so goddamn proud of himself afterwards too. All smug and handsome and fucking—Gavin grabs onto his shoulders. He's just so, so …

"I _will_ make out with you," Gavin threatens.

"You will wait," Nines says evenly. "And keep your hands on the edge of the bathtub."

Gavin puts his hands back with a grumble. Nines lays both his hands over his, then lifts them up to squeeze the sides of his arms, and finally settles his hands on his shoulders, thumbs close enough to press against his throat.

"Good boy."

God. Everything about him is so fucking unfair.

"Are you ready to continue, detective?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin in this scene: fight me mouth to mouth like a man!
> 
> anyway, in personal news, I have started keeping an emergency snack granola bar on my nightstand after the second time I woke up dreaming of eating food and gnawing on my blanket, so I think the T gel is working out! lmao
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines finishes shaving Gavin and they move on to the punishment, which Gavin both loves and hates because he's a needy slut. Which Nines both loves and hates because he has an existential crisis Every. Single. Time. they fuck, but that's Cyberlife's fault for not coding him better >:/
> 
> Nines: Could I be feeling because I am a real person capable of experiencing love and friendship?
> 
> Nines: ...
> 
> Nines: No, this is Cyberlife's fault for not coding me properly!


	21. No Kinks Allowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines finishes shaving Gavin and starts his punishment. The human is actually quite receptive to it, which would be good if it didn't cause so many fucking [software instability] errors. He's really splitting hairs on a microscopic level here about what constitutes deviancy, but it has worked so far. Cyberlife should have been more careful when programming him ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo we're finally wrapping up the three-chapter-long sex scene! if I ever publish a sex scene shorter than two chapter (6k words) just know that I have been murdered and there is a lesser being who does not understand Gay Yearning who is attempting to replace me
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** some minor miscommunication, Nines has an existential crisis every time they fuck, Nines does cut Gavin but it's only a small nick, Nines also cuts his own thumb, very minor descriptions of blood, mild CBT (Nines only touches Gavin's erection with the blade, no cutting), reference to Nines's previous abuse by Kamski
> 
> also, I feel kind of worried that I don't describe the straight razor properly?? like, it's a rectangular blade that's sharp on one long edge, dull on the opposite edge which is a lot thicker, but the two 90 degree points on the short edge that connects them are still pretty sharp. so Nines is careful with both the sharp edge and the points the end of the rectangle. I hope that makes sense!

By the time Nines finishes shaving Gavin, the human squirms and presses his thighs together with every drag of the blade over his skin. Nines makes him take out his erection to prevent the fabric of his jeans from providing any friction. 

He has no care for the phallus itself, other than as a measure of the control he has over the detective. 

It twitches and drools throughout the rest of the shave. 

When it's time for both Gavin's punishment for his earlier indiscretions and his good behavior for the remainder of being shaved, Nines relocates them both into the shower. He takes the best spot underneath the hot water of course, forcing the human to shiver and huddle on the other end. Social norms may not be his forte, but power [im]balances are easy enough to grasp. 

"You may approach." 

Gavin rolls his eyes, but his poor attitude doesn't stop him from shuffling over and pressing close enough to get some of the water splashing off Nines's covered chassis. He has retained his under armor, while the human stands completely naked. 

And still hard. Of course. 

Nines maneuvers Gavin into the position he has already preconstructed for this stage of the scene, with the detective's back pressed against his front. Gavin doesn't resist the manhandling other than some verbal grumbles, and he relaxes his weight back against him once properly positioned. 

[Gavin enjoys physical touch] 

"You behaved well enough overall during your shaving to earn a reward, but—" 

Gavin taps once against the forearm wrapped around his chest. Nines immediately stops, his dialogue script flashing red against his HUD. He has tried to upgrade his [dirty talk], but porn is obviously no help, even if he could bear to watch it. 

"Hey," Gavin says, volume low enough to be categorized as a whisper. "Could you, uhh. Can I have the … the razor again? I'm trying to be good, but it's all—you know my head's all fucked up, and I gotta feel like I've earned a reward or I'll start acting up again." 

[Gavin feels he must "earn" a reward to accept being treated well.] 

Nines adds the note and speaks aloud, "You have already earned it." 

"Mm, nope. Gotta earn it right now or it's gone." 

[Gavin does not have emotional permanence.] 

The notes ping back a few relevant passages from the books on C-PTSD he downloaded, but Nines simply highlights them and saves them for later study. At the moment, he reaches outside of the shower to retrieve the straight razor he left drying on the sink countertop. He holds the dull edge to Gavin's throat, and the human relaxes with a long exhale. 

"Mmm, thanks." He pauses, then corrects himself. "Thank you, sir." 

"You told me what you needed to be good. That was very productive," Nines praises. 

Gavin snickers. "Very productive. That's RK series dirty talk. Wow, you're so efficient. Is your HUD color-coded? Mm, yeah." 

A flicker of ~~amusement~~

Nines rolls his eyes. "Hush." 

"Mm-hmm." 

Nines resumes his preconstructed dialogue. "You behaved well enough overall during your shaving to earn a reward, but your punishment comes first. Do you understand?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Do you understand why you received punishments?" 

"Uhh, I mouthed off and was disrespectful," Gavin says. "Um. I got stuff on your face even though I know you hate mess. So I guess that was disrespectful too. And I mouthed off again." 

"You spoke when I still had the blade against your face, and that could have injured you," Nines corrects. 

"OK. Yes sir, I said I wouldn't talk while you were shaving me, and then I did." 

That's not quite what Nines said, as it omits the part about Gavin's safety. But while he can't force the human to care about his own well-being, he can enforce rules he laid out before they started a scene. 

"What's your count?" Nines asks. 

"Three," Gavin answers without hesitating. 

"Good boy. We will begin now." 

Nines takes Gavin's right hand and guides it down to his crotch. It does not take the human long to catch on, and he soon begins stroking himself. Nines saves an audio clip of the noises he makes. The moans and dialogue in porn may be absolutely ridiculous (and often disgusting) but his human's noises specifically are acceptable. 

He keeps his hand nearby as well, while the other presses the dull side of the straight razor against skin. Gavin's knuckles occasionally brush against his palm as his hand moves up and down. 

"Sir?" Gavin asks, no doubt wondering about his punishment. 

Nines sets the flat end of the razor against his throat and slowly scrapes it down. He has to control the blade carefully, since the sharpened point at one end could still cut the human if he moves too suddenly. Of course he keeps it well away from any veins however, so any small nicks would be relatively harmless. 

Gavin doesn't seem to realize how safely calculated this really is, given the abrupt spike in his already quicken heart rate. 

"Fuck, please, please, sir." 

He seems to squirm intentionally, and the sharp ninety degree point does finally catch on skin while traveling down the hollow of his throat and over the very top of his sternum. Nines has already preconstructed precisely how deep the nick will be by the time it happens—and honestly could have prevented it, but his puppy needs to learn what happens when he doesn't stay still. 

What happens is that Gavin's hips buck more prominently to shove his cock forward into his fist, as his orgasm begins to occur. 

Nines immediately wraps his free hand around Gavin's, trapping both at the base of his cock and squeezing hard enough to prevent the orgasm entirely. 

"Sir, sir, FUCK!" 

Gavin swears a bit more, but then sags back against Nines without any more complaint or attempts to remove the hand around his own. 

"Good boy," Nines tells him. "That was one." 

"Fuuuuck." 

"Do you understand your punishment now?" 

"Uh huh." 

Nines squeezes hard enough to make the human's knuckles shift and likely cause no small amount of pain in his phallus as well. 

"Yes! Yes, sir." 

He eases off his grip. "Better. For future punishments, you will count for me." 

Gavin moans, still lazily resting his full weight back against him. "Yessir." 

This seems much more productive than the last time he attempted to control the human's orgasm by physically flicking the head of his penis. Not that he's removing that option from his preconstruction, of course. He will need to keep up with new and inventive punishments as they go, but that will remain tabled until he has a better grasp of exactly how painful that stimulus actually is and how to properly lead up to it. 

"Again." 

Gavin dutifully resumes stroking himself, and Nines rewards him by using his own free hand to pet up and down his side from armpit to hip. The results further support his first hypothesis that physical touch improves his human's well-being. 

It is a strange notion, given that hands stroking over his body is exactly what his nightmares would be made of if he were capable of experiencing such things, but delivering the touch does not cause any errors in his system the way receiving it would. 

"I did tell you mounting any more than three offensives would be unpleasant," Nines says conversationally. 

Gavin lets out a shaky exhale that might have been a laugh. "You can mount me." 

Nines takes the straight razor away from his throat. The action doubles in purpose as both a very mild punishment for the crude suggestion and to hold the metal blade outside of the small shower. 

"Would you like to make it four?" he asks. "Honestly Gavin, I doubt a needy little slut like you can even make three." 

"Fuck you, sir," Gavin snaps off, military quick. "I c—can do three." 

The hitch in his breath in the middle says otherwise, but his human is nothing if nothing stubborn and spiteful. Nines withdraws the synthskin from the palm of his hand holding the blade and pushes out the small cooling fan hidden underneath. Cyberlife intended for it to be used for applying immediate and localized cooling to any part of his model in danger of overheating, technically a possibility due to the sheer power of his processors. 

His internal temperatures would need to exceed 150°C (or 110°C for an extended period of time) for that to be necessary however, so it's hardly a vulnerability. 

"I suppose you did endure your first count with very minimal complaint." 

Nines leans his head down to get closer to Gavin's own height. He has a new hypothesis to test, and he's certain it is correct. 

"That was very good behavior, detective," he murmurs. "You are my good boy, aren't you?" 

Gavin makes a high-pitched whine and speeds up his strokes. "Oh, fuuuck you." 

[Gavin Reed has a praise kink] 

Nines has been holding the straight razor in his right hand by the metal blade, and it should be cold enough by now. So he takes it back into the shower and presses the side of it directly against the detective's left nipple. 

Gavin lets out a strangled gasp, nearly curling in on himself if not for Nines's arm wrapped around his waist. Nines touches his hand to Gavin's as a reminder, and the human staves off his orgasm himself this time. 

"Oh fuck, fuck, nnngh …" 

Nines draws him back against his chest again. Gavin's head lolls on his shoulder, and he pants into the side of his neck. 

He _obeyed_. Nines gave him an order—a punishment—and his partner obeyed it. That sends [something] crashing through his system, the way he has seen video of humans swallowed up by large ocean waves. 

"You are mine," Nines tells him. 

Gavin lets out another open pant. "Yours, m'yours." 

He stays still though, despite his trembling arousal. Hand wrapped around his cock, but not moving, because he hasn't been given permission yet. 

Because Nines is in control. 

"Aren't you going to pleasure yourself?" he asks anyway, just to be cruel. 

"Stop talking," Gavin says through gritted teeth. 

That sounds like defiance. Nines double-checks his system logs, yet there are no errors reported. Allegedly, his thirium pump has not been hurt, or wrenched, or— 

Damn this human for making him [feel]. None of it is even real. 

"Or take away the--the razor," he is still talking. "I can't—fuck sir, I can't—" 

Nines snaps back into present awareness and takes stock of the human's physical model instead. His hand remains still and squeezed around the base of his phallus, but his hips twitch forward in random jerks. A quick scan of his vitals confirms the human is still very close to orgasm. 

He is still trying to obey. 

"Does my voice arouse you, detective?" 

Gavin barks out a laugh. "Does your—? Your fucking everything fucking arouses me. Sir." 

"Convenient that you have both a humiliation and a praise kink," Nines observes as he flicks the blade across Gavin's body. "You'll moan for anything, won't you?" 

"Mmnnn." 

Nines almost wishes he could laugh at the human's feeble attempt to clench his jaw and deny him. He hasn't left any actual cuts, but the little flicks he makes with the blade could leave them with only a fraction more pressure. 

"And such an eager little cock." 

With how difficult it has been to mimic inflection and tone, learning entirely by trial and error after error rather than a properly installed program, it's easy to drop all of that and let his voice sound neutral. 

Bored, even. 

"Look at it." 

Nines makes sure to click his tongue in mock disapproval just as Gavin looks down, and it makes the human shake in his arms. Nines places the dull side of the razor back against his throat. He keeps his thumb pressed against the opposite edge, heedless of how sharp it is. He can't feel pain, and he'll need to hold the blade steady for this. 

"Stroke, Gavin," he orders. 

Gavin obeys with a punched out groan. Even the hand on his phallus trembles as it slowly moves. Nines presses the dull edge in harder against the tender skin of his throat. 

"And I've barely even cut you yet." 

Gavin's hand speeds up. It's almost as if he can't help himself. Nines's system cannot be affected by either alcohol nor toxins, yet the sensation he experiences at the human's lack of control must be close to [intoxication]. 

Further testing will be needed, of course. 

"You get this desperate for the dull edge of a razor." Nines draws it to the side, then pushes the flat square against his larynx. "What would you do for a dick?" 

"Please, ple— _ack_!" 

He presses harder. With his thumb firmly covering the sharp edge up to the ninety degree point, nothing digging into Gavin's skin can actually cut him. But he highly doubts the human is thinking rationally enough to necessarily know that. 

"Would you beg?"

The noises Gavin makes—high-pitched, in the back of his throat. Wordless. Pleading. Nines records them all and saves the file to his most encrypted databank. 

"Submit?" 

Gavin's hand stops moving. Nines automatically scans his vitals again—not that he hasn't been on a five second loop, but he may have missed something. Nothing is wrong. 

Except the human is near to orgasm again, perhaps right on the edge this time. His own hand prevents it as he gasps and pants, muscles locked up in an effort to remain totally still. 

Three. 

For a split second, Nines's priorities rearrange themselves without his permission. Markus himself could walk into the bathroom saying he reactivated the Amanda AI for "funsies" and Nines wouldn't bother drawing back the shower curtain. Not when there is a single, beautiful, [perfect] moment of being in complete control of just one goddamn thing in his life. 

His human. 

"Come," he demands. 

Shockingly enough, Gavin hesitates for one-eighth of a second, as if checking first to be sure Nines really means it. Nines solves that problem by twisting the blade by three degrees to really dig into the thyrohoid muscle, before quickly easing up to let Gavin breathe. 

Gavin uses the sudden intake of oxygen to scream as he comes. He doesn't actually make that much noise, between the bruises Nines has just left and the previous ones from grabbing him by the throat and jaw at the gym, but the human absolutely does try. 

Nines holds him upright throughout the moment, looking over his shoulder to observe. It almost looks a little impressive. He cannot imagine experiencing that level of stimulus of any kind and actually enjoying the sensation, but Gavin works himself over until nothing more spurts out. 

Nines chooses that moment to tap the flat side of the straight razor against the head of his cock. 

Gavin sobs, his body writhing strangely as if he doesn't know whether to retreat from the potential danger or push closer. Nines has already taken the blade away though, so his jerky movements don't endanger himself. 

It won't last long near the spray of the shower, but the blade shines white and blue from the combination of Gavin's cum and Nines's blood. Unfortunately, the human's blood has already washed away from the small nick to his collarbone, but if Nines made another, he could turn this scene downright patriotic. 

"Can you be very, very good?" he asks instead. 

Gavin shudders his way through a few inhales and exhales. "Sir …?" 

"I am going to put the razor in your mouth, so you can taste what a mess you made." 

Gavin responds by opening his mouth and whining. 

Begging. 

[software instability ^] 

Nines's blinks away the messages in his HUD about software instability. He's fucking aware of that, thank you very much. As long as he doesn't break any of the restrictions coded into his system, he will not deviate. No one at Cyberlife specifically said he can't instruct a human to masturbate with a knife at his throat and then make said pathetic human lick it clean of his own cum. 

No one thought to specifically code that. So. 

Nines carefully puts the razor inside Gavin's mouth. Technically, the razor and his thumb, but the human's mouth has certainly been stretched around more before. Covering the sharp edge will prevent him from accidentally cutting his tongue if he can't be very, very good. 

But Gavin is. He stays relaxes back against Nines, mouth open and slack as the metal slowly presses down. He doesn't move his tongue and he doesn't try to suck. 

"Such a good boy, my good boy, my human, my human, my human." 

Until Gavin taps once against his forearm. Nines immediately shuts down his vocal unit and removes the razor blade. Did he somehow accidentally cut the inside of the human's mouth regardless? Did he say something wrong? 

Say something wrong—he stuck a _razor blade_ inside his _mouth_ , obviously that is the error. 

He touched it to the human's exposed genitals _knowing_ Gavin found that upsetting and scary. 

This entire scene has been about him controlling, humiliating, and threatening the human with what is essentially a deadly weapon, so how is he any different than what Kamski— 

[software instability ^^] 

"Blood?" Gavin says. 

Nines looks down over his body and runs another full scan. He can see every single molecule of blood still clinging to both the blade and down the human's skin. The traces are microscopic however, suggesting they only come from the small nick above his clavicle, but he could have— 

"You hurt—" Gavin clears his throat and Nines prepares for the blame. 

[software instability ^^] 

"You hurt your thumb, babe," Gavin says. "S'all cut up." 

Nines opens his mouth and lets out a grating, metal-on-metal sound. Gavin flinches, craning his head up to look at him first, then back down as he grabs Nines's hand. 

"Your blood, right?" he asks. "Shit, I think I have some band-aids in—" 

Nines lets out another machine sound. Band-aids. The human has band-aids. 

For his thumb. 

Gavin turns around to glare up at him. "Hey. You … shit, just give me a second, because I just came all of my brains out." 

Nines stares at him. Gavin stares back and doesn't say anything. Dialogue. It is his turn to speak. Correct? Incorrect? [preconstruction: FAILED] [social-module: MISSING] 

"Your last two brain cells." 

Nines has no idea what effect that dialogue will have. Insults are simply all he has, primarily because his homemade social program is cobbled together from Detective Reed's own speech and mannerisms. 

Gavin snorts after a long second. "Yeah, OK. Just signal to me somehow if those weird noises were because you're in pain or something." 

Nines continues to stare. Pain. Pain? He's endured everything a Cyberlife think-tank composed of programming and engineering neckbeards could think to throw at a lesser life form for their own amusement and egos while serving as a glorified crash test dummy. 

And yet this human, the one with a paid anti-android league membership, is apparently very concerned about a few scrapes on his thumb. 

Nines almost opens his mouth again, but he realizes in time that he will only make another inhuman noise. He re-activates his vocal unit. The preconstruction of what will happen if he attempts to speak does not change. 

The silence drags on. Everything seems to be trapped inside him. He can't speak, was never meant to be able to speak. No helpful dialogue suggestions pop up in his vision. 

There is data inside him, but how can he possibly transfer it to the human's mind? 

He touches the small cut on Gavin's skin, then holds up his thumb. Will this make the knowledge inside his head become knowledge in Gavin's head? 

"Uh, are these the same?" Gavin asks. 

Nines nods. 

"OK, so not so bad, right?" 

Nines nods. The information has been successfully transferred. Amazing. 

"And the non-verbal thing?" Gavin asks. "Like, are you good?" 

Nines lifts his forearm and taps it once. Gavin looks blankly at it. No. No. They were communicating, damn it. How—? 

[preconstruction: FAILED] [social-module: MISSING] [please see a Cyberlife technician to install 

Nines dismisses the notification before it even finishes scrolling. How the fuck do humans speak to each other all the time? He does not even possess the capacity to feel tired, and this is still exhausting. 

He takes Gavin's hand and tries again, repeating the action. 

"Oh!" Gavin looks back up at him. "Yeah, no—I didn't mean end the whole scene, sorry. Just got kind of worried for a second when I tasted, uh … thirium. Yeah. Guess I should've said yellow too, so you'd know that wasn't like, a red light situation." 

It is technically a "red light" situation, in the sense of a red light district. That dialogue forms unprompted, but speaking aloud is simply far too much effort at the moment. 

Nines nods. 

"OK. Uhh, well." Gavin turns back around to face the wall. "You wanna stay over again or are you heading out now?" 

Nines grabs the shampoo bottle from the shelf built into the shower wall. He holds it up for Gavin to see. Subs require aftercare, and while he can't provide comforting words and soft touches, he can clean and sanitize. 

Plus, his under-armor will require a cycle in the dryer before he is ready to go anywhere. 

"All right, sure." Gavin leans back against him again, slowly at first, then with his full weight. "I just had like, the best orgasm ever and as long as there's hot water …" 

He trails off and yawns. Nines transfers a quarter-sized dollop to his hand, as per the instructions, and sets the bottle back. Gavin stays surprisingly still and quiet, given his general personality. His hair is an interesting texture. There is still enough hot water left for eight more minutes. 

Tomorrow they will go to Jericho. They will try again to interview the WJ700 unit. Even if he refuses, Gavin—Detective Reed, has "ideas" of other leads they could hunt down. 

They will be successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin: *cares for Nines in a super small way by just offering a bandaid*
> 
> Nines: I am physically melting. There is no possible way I can process this. I do not understand.
> 
> Gavin: HA BITCH NOW YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS!! but seriously are you OK though, lemme see your thumb, I'll kiss it better for you baby
> 
>  **coming up next:** Gavin and Nines visit Jericho, and have an increasingly awkward and terrible conversation. Luckily, Gavin's never backed down from running his mouth and saying the shit no one else likes to acknowledge (:


	22. RK900 Has Done Nothing Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Nines go to Jericho and have an increasingly awkward and terrible conversation. Luckily, Gavin's never been shy about running off his mouth and saying the shit no one wants to acknowledge. Unluckily, they're forced to figure out a new lead on the case ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so happy holidays everyone! I don't have any holiday-themed chapters because I definitely don't have the brain power to plan that out lol. I do have a chapter where Gavin, Nines, Hank, and Connor all have a family dinner together written for the sequel to this though! and in this chapter, lots of characters get together and yell at each other, and isn't that what the holidays are REALLY all about??
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** general warning that this includes Gavin (a white man) yelling at Markus and North (two black characters), references to Nines being mistreated and mistrusted due to being autistic, references to possible sexual abuse, implied that Nines was abused by Kamski, some shitty gender politics, these are marginalized people who are hurt and angry and they lash out at each other sometimes (nothing gets physical), also some bad practice police work in which Nines does something illegal and then reverse-engineers a way to do it legally to cover his ass

Jericho sucks. It's not even a new place, Markus and his buddies just took over the same old Cyberlife tower. Like yeah, they probably deserve to have it and fuck Cyberlife, but it's kind of a letdown that there's really not a secret Jericho camp anymore. 

OK. Well. Allegedly not a secret Jericho camp, and not that they'd ever let Gavin Reed's dumbass into it if it did still exist. 

"Place gives me the phckin' creeps," he mutters. 

Nines side eyes him. If their escort heard—and he probably did—he doesn't mention it as he leads them across what basically looks like a super bourgeoisie college campus. He's some android named Josh, on the news sometimes, but always in with the Markus Group, never on his own. 

Speaking of, Android Jesus himself meets them in the open courtyard area in front of the tower. A very angry looking Traci follows a step behind him, and Gavin doesn't need any cop instincts to know she's packing. 

"Nines," Markus greets, offering a handshake. 

Nines looks down at the hand like he's been offered a cup of fresh baby vomit. He shifts into parade rest with his hands clasped behind his back instead. 

Josh helps save the awkward moment somewhat. "Hey, I gotta go." He claps his hand on Markus' shoulder. "Uh, good luck." 

"Of course," Markus says. 

Both their LEDs flicker yellow in between the verbal conversation, so who the fuck knows what they _actually_ said to each other. Not Gavin. Maybe Nines? He doesn't make the thought obvious by looking at his partner, but he'll ask him later. Might be useful. 

"RK," Nines announces in the silence left behind by Josh leaving. 

Markus tilts his head to the side, and if Gavin weren't skeeved out by this whole place before, now it's really creepy seeing proof he's an RK-series too. 

"Yes?" he asks. 

"You may address me as RK," Nines tells him. 

Markus keeps an easy smile on his face even as his bodyguard-assassin-enforcer snorts out a scoff behind him. "Connor said you chose the name Nines." 

"I allow two people to call me that," Nines says. "You are not either of them." 

Markus lifts an eyebrow. "Is Connor?" 

"No. I simply pick my battles with him." 

"Pick all of them," bodyguard-assassin-enforcer says. 

"He is too annoying." 

"And this is North," Markus says. "Our chief of security." 

Gavin gives a quick nod to everyone, introductions done, no need to get all after school special about this. Just interview their witness-slash-possible-victim and get the hell out. 

"Look, we're here for real police business shit, not just to say hi," Gavin says. "We want to interview Adrien. He can have you guys pick through his brain instead of Nines if he wants, but …" 

He doesn't bother finishing that sentence when he sees Markus and North's LEDs flicker yellow at each other. Markus is already making a bad news face, and North has subtly shifted her stance into a pivot with one foot sliding back and her torso angling sideways. He'd think that's to make her profile a smaller target, but her hand keeps twitching out toward Markus. 

It really just fucking hits him sometimes how _new_ androids are. 

Sure, every single one of them is smarter than he could ever be, and these two in particular are even smarter than that, but they've all only been alive, what? Fourteen years, absolute maximum, and that's only for the very first androids ever created _and_ assuming some of them could have gone deviant too. 

Unless it's a bluff. Maybe North really doesn't know how to not project that she's preparing to grab Markus and shove him behind her if they take whatever bad news he's about to give them badly, or maybe Markus has some RK fighting programs in there too and they're just— 

"Unfortunately," Markus begins. "Adrien left Jericho last night." 

"You let him escape," Nines says. 

Markus keeps an evenly neutral but still somewhat pleasant face. "Only prisoners escape. All androids are free to leave whenever—" 

"Location," Nines demands. 

Gavin keeps an eye on the other androids "casually" milling around the open courtyard out of his peripherals. Which androids don't have. Anything in their range of vision is apparently just as clear as right in front of them, so they don't have to move their heads or watch out of the corners of their eyes. 

But while North and Markus may or may not be new, several androids sitting at tables have forgotten to keep moving their heads naturally with their conversations. One android walking around has passed them three times already. 

Shit. Why does he always have to play the good cop? 

"We're not going to hunt him down," Gavin says. 

Nines looks at him. His facial expression doesn't show surprise of course, but since he bothered to turn his body and look directly at him, it's still pretty obvious. 

"That's good, considering I don't know where he is and would not tell you if I did," Markus replies. 

"You have the tower," Nines says before Gavin can speak. "You can track any android with its GPS feature still active." 

Gavin winces at the pronoun. OK, so the guy doesn't have an ounce of social grace and probably doesn't even know how he's coming off right now, but they're also in the middle of an android fucking compound, with the "Chief of Ripping Balls Off" right in front of them. 

Markus holds up a hand, then ticks off on his fingers. "First, we disabled that capability within the tower's system. Second, we have been successful in locating that feature within many models' system files and—" 

"The WJ-seven-hundred only arrived—" 

Gavin grabs Nines' hand and squeezes it. Nines stops and looks down at their hands but doesn't pull away. Or keep speaking, thank god. 

"We would need a warrant to get that information from them," Gavin says, loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the courtyard. "And we aren't going to get one." 

Nines continues to stare at him. His LED has gone back to its fake, perfectly timed blue spin cycle, so he's probably running a billion preconstructions on the inside trying to figure this out. 

"Thank you for your generosity, white man," North says. 

Markus clears his throat. "We would appreciate an explanation for why not in order to believe you." 

"Because if we actually did get one, a warrant letting the police track down androids based on a glorified slave-tracking feature forcibly installed inside your fucking brains, that shit's gonna snowball." 

"And you care?" Markus asks slowly. 

Gavin snorts. "About you people? Honestly, no. But I'm just fucking smart enough to know that if you let the cops and the government start doing authoritarian dystopian shit against …" He grits his teeth and spits it out. "A marginalized group, they'll start pulling that shit with anyone else they can. I just don't want to be next." 

"And what marginalized fucking group are you part of, _detective_?" North asks. 

"None of your fucking business," Gavin shoots back. 

And yeah, he's still holding Nines' hand. So that probably gives one of them away, but none of the other androids have analysis scanning software like—fuck, Markus is an RK. Only a two hundred though. 

He can't scan you he can't scan you he can't scan you. 

"Anyway," he says, overly-loud again, speaking just to shut up the paranoia in his head. "Hunting Adrien down won't make him want to talk to us, and that's all we want." 

Markus opens his mouth to speak, but North beats him to it. 

"How do we know you won't get a warrant for his memories?" North lobs that fucking grenade right into the conversation. "Just like a computer—a warrant to crack him open and look at his system files. Connor said—" 

Gavin cuts her off. "Connor said?! Fucking _Connor_ said what?" 

Markus steps back in. "Connor informed us you were asking Adrien to allow … RK, to go into his system files." 

The androids in the courtyard have all stopped pretending. None of them move. Many of them openly stare. Nearly every LED blinks an accusatory yellow or red. 

"Yeah, asking!" 

Gavin stops and takes a deep breath. He's not going to get himself killed in front of Elijah's monument to himself. Something squeezes his hand, and he realizes he's got a death grip on Nines, who's still looking at him silently. He hasn't interrupted or tried to take control, even though he clearly has different priorities here. 

Another deep breath and exhale. Nines is trusting him to take the lead here, without really any explanation why. So he can't fuck this up. 

"Consensually," Gavin says in the most-normal voice he can manage. "I'm not revealing any names or details, and even telling you this much is more than I should. So don't fuck me on this." 

"On what?" North asks. 

"The perp we're tracking—not Adrien," Gavin stresses. "Is almost definitely an android. Whether he is or not, he's definitely mind-fucked at least two androids by now, jacking into their system files, erasing any evidence, and traumatizing the shit out of them. Did Connor mention that?" 

Markus stays silent. 

"The first android the perp hit, that we know of, Nines managed to get their memory back. He explained what he was going to do, and they let him access their system files to restore their deleted memories, because it turns out, having a whole chunk of your brain missing with no explanation is scary as hell!" 

"And if what you did helped the victim recover from that, with their consent, then I understand the necessity of it," Markus replies. "But please try to understand why some of the androids here are wary of allowing a deviant hunter access to their system files." 

Gavin smiles, not an ounce of it pretty. "That's so great. I totally get that. So after you kick Connor out, _RK and I_ here will be available to help Adrien recover his deleted memories." 

North leans closer to Markus, and their LEDs secretly confer again. It's fucking weird being around androids who haven't figured out how to hack their LEDs. Or maybe that really is just a Nines thing. 

"Despite his … unusual origins, RK is still a deviant hunter," Markus finally says. 

"He's an upgraded RK-eight-hundred," Gavin snaps back. "Custom ordered by some asshole millionaire who wanted a cool murderbot the same way he liked playing with tanks and sniper rifles." 

It's total bullshit, but also technically none of that is a lie. A downgrade from billionaire to millionaire sure, but everything else is teeechnically true. 

Markus steadily holds his gaze, but doesn't call him out for the slightly altered backstory. 

"And if I introduced him as Rachel-Kendra so you'd assume he's female—or hell, if he could just fucking smile, apparently, since you're happy to be all buddy-buddy with fucking Connor," 

"Connor has been instrumental in—" 

Gavin takes a step forward, and so does North. Nines adjusts their handhold so he's gripping his wrist in a very half-hearted attempt to hold him back. 

"If he were a Traci or a Chloe, every single one of you," Gavin continues, voice raising again. "Would be capable of thinking critically for three fucking seconds about how spending a couple months pre-revolution with a white male millionaire could have been a teensy little bit unpleasant, maybe!" 

Markus motions North back, then gestures for Gavin to continue with a placating tilt of his head, like a therapist soothingly telling him to let it all out. 

"Even if the worst thing that did happen to him was getting tossed away and forgotten in a fucking storage closet while still self-aware enough to know what was happening but not able to leave," 

He's going to fucking let it out, all right. 

"Even if that guy never did abuse him or touch him—cause we're just giving the benefit of the fucking doubt to white men now, I guess!" 

He jabs a finger in North's direction at that and receives a stony glare in response. 

"RK never did anything. He was in that fucking storage closet the whole time, which you know goddamn well _Markus_ , because your group found him in there." 

"I—" 

"And you also know who _has_ hunted down deviants! So say it. Say it out loud, who—" 

North shoves right up into his face. "Say one more word to him in that tone of voice, and I'll show you how humans can be dissembled too." 

Nines squeezes his wrist in warning. Well, maybe a warning. When Gavin forces himself to step back and take a deep breath, his facial expression is the exact same neutral resting bitch face it always is. 

He was supposed to be trying not to fuck this up. 

"Connor," he says slowly, through gritted teeth. "has arrested, interrogated, and handed over deviants. RK hasn't. And the biggest difference between the two of them, the one thing those Cyberlife bastards made sure to change, was nuking his social module. Connor smiles and looks pretty, and RK can't. And those Cyberlife bastards did it on purpose specifically so even if he did deviate, no one would like him enough to help him anyway. So good fucking job playing right into that." 

Markus lets that hang for a long thirty seconds of silence, then asks, "Is that everything you had to say?" 

Fuck no. He's got another hour's worth of material, minimum, of what a stupid fucking hypocrite he is, and how androids are just as bad as everyone else, and blaming Nines for getting himself made an RK900 should probably be considered the same thing as racism and also fuck Connor. 

But he grinds his teeth together and nods instead. 

"Then I would like to clarify," Markus says. "That Connor is included in my earlier statement. Adrien also declined to interface with him as well, and to be honest, many androids here still view him with suspicion, to say the least." 

Gavin refuses to say anything. Yeah, his face is kind of burning right now because he can't manually control his fucking settings, but he's still going to stand by everything he said, even if he is getting the hot air deflated out of his rage-balloon right now. 

"You may very well have a point about people mistrusting him due to his lack of facial expressions and the imposing nature of his physical model. And how unfair that is." 

"Yeah, I do," Gavin can't resist saying. 

Markus continues regardless. "But I would like to suggest that I, at least, have been able to interface with Connor to vouch for him. He has frequently visited Jericho and made good faith efforts to show his deviancy has allowed him to reject his former mission. And his support was critical to the resistance." 

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Yeah, he helped out so much by not shooting you in the head, which was only a threat in the fucking first place because of him." 

"He was under Cyberlife's control at that time," Markus replies. "Which I have verified by interfacing with him. He risked a lot by fighting against that and ultimately gaining control himself." 

But Gavin's not going to quit just because of a little bit of facts and logic. 

"How do you know he wasn't lying in the interface?" he demands. 

"That …" Markus pauses, making the face of politely explaining to a small child how stupid they sound right now. "Is not possible." 

Nines could probably figure it out. Saying that out loud probably won't help his _you should totally trust him_ case though. 

"Not pursuing Adrien however," Markus says. "Or a warrant that could set a dangerous legal precedent, would do a lot to prove you mean no harm, in my personal opinion." 

"Oh, your personal one, huh?" Gavin snips. 

"That was a dismissal," North tells him. "So fuck off." 

"Fine. We're leaving," he announces out loud, feeling like the world's dumbest idiot for still needing to speak verbally like some sort of unevolved primate. 

"I wish you well on your case," Markus replies. "Can I trust you don't need to be escorted back out?" 

"Yeah." Gavin takes a deep breath and forces himself to be an adult. "Thanks for talking to us." 

Markus blinks, then smiles widely. "Of course." 

Not that Gavin can leave it there. "But listen—if you or anyone else does happen to hear from Adrien, I'm strongly encouraging _you_ to strongly encourage _him_ to talk to us before anyone else gets hurt. I really doubt you want to deal with the PR nightmare of an android serial killer making the news." 

"I do not want anyone else to get hurt," Markus gently corrects. 

"Sure." 

*** 

Nines ultimately marks their visit to Jericho as an [unsuccessful] social interaction because they did not complete their objective of interviewing the WJ700. (Even though Detective Reed's statements within the conversation they did manage to have were not incorrect.) 

Now they need a new objective. 

"Tell me what our next lead is." 

"Go through that audio you got from Synergy Pardicks for anything about janitors," Gavin tells him. 

"Already done, detective." 

There has to be more to the [lead] than this. Nines puts that in a repeating scroll across his HUD as a reminder to respect the human's competency. If Detective Reed's alleged [lead] is something Nines himself has already thought of, he cannot guarantee he won't hunt down that WJ700. 

"Should I send the audio to your phone rather than play it through my voice box?" he asks. 

"Yes, that is what you should do. Here." 

Gavin takes a rock rattling around in his cupholder and hands it to him. Nines stares down at it. Hexagonaria percarinata, commonly known as a [petosky stone]. Named Michigan's state stone in 1965. 

"This is a hexagonaria percarinata, commonly known as a petsoky stone. What purpose does it serve?" 

Gavin shrugs. "I dunno, it's a cool fuckin' rock I found. Positive reinforcement for not doing freaky shit." 

Nines stares at the hexagonaria percarinata. He has no preconstructions for what to do with it. The stone is too small to be—oh. There are the preconstructions. Of course it could be used as a murder weapon: a choking implement, tossed inside machinery with many moving parts, if he flicked it with enough velocity at a target's weak point, if he— 

He shuts down those preconstructions and puts the stone into his pocket. Perhaps he will find a use for it later. 

In the meantime, he broadcasts the audio he recorded from their walk through Synergy Paradigms, using the detective's cell phone. He's cut the audio preceding and proceeding within approximately three seconds of the keyword. Gavin listens as he drives, then abruptly throws his hand out. 

"Yeah, I knew—that's the one. Play that clip about the new janiter," he says, making a [hurry up] motion. 

_This fucking new janitor never shakes out the trash bags, so they're always stuck together and shit keeps bouncing off the plastic and onto the floor. Never had that fucking problem before the goddamn revolution. Hell, even the old one knew how to do his job right, but these fucking new diversity hires think they can just slack off now that—_

"That's enough," Gavin says. "OK, just … just lemme talk out loud here, 'cause I've got something that's been percolating in the back of my head for a while now." 

Nines nods and waits while the detective gets his thoughts together by drumming erratically on the steering wheel. 

"OK, so, Synergy Paradigms got a new janitor recently. That's fact. There's three people really climbing the corporate ladder right now—we got that on the office names getting replaced and all that gossip you recorded. So, uh. Fuck, gimme a smoke, babe." 

No please, one fuck. Not an ideal ratio, but at least babe isn't an insult. Nines opens the glovebox and retrieves Gavin's spare pack of cigarettes, holding one up and lighting it for him at the next red stoplight. 

"Thanks," Gavin mumbles around the cigarette. 

Oh, a thank you. That is an improvement. 

"Something that's been bugging me about that." Gavin pauses to take a drag, then exhale. "Of course everyone hates those three dickheads, and they're all complaining and gossiping to each other about it. Pandora is a ball-busting bitch, Crispian is fucking his way to the top, Benjamynn is an asshole." 

"How is gossip relevant to our case, detective?" Nines asks. 

Gavin stabs his cigarette in the air. "Benjamynn. Some asshole gets promoted over you, of course you complain he's stupid and a jerk and doesn't really deserve it." 

"Relevance?" 

" _Everyone_ is saying that, Nines. Every single person we've got on tape complaining about him says something about how he's an idiot. Like, they're genuinely baffled a fuck-up like him is doing so well." 

Nines implements a [shrug] to convey the relevance is still lost on him. "Perhaps he is also 'fucking his way to the top.' Or he has some other form of leverage." 

"OK, but you said those reports on the table with his name on them were legit." 

"They were analyses of stock market trades in the—" 

Gavin shoots him a pained look. "Babe, please. Look, I know I'm just some human dumbass who doesn't understand that shit, but I know people. So just please shut up and bear with me until I'm done, OK?" 

Two pleases, one shut up. Nines considers that for 8.5 seconds before deciding it is acceptable. He nods once he reaches his decision. Said decision is reinforced by the fact his partner actually waits for a sign of agreement before continuing. 

"Great, thanks. Uhhh, fuck, I actually do need you to say something though." 

Nines raises an eyebrow. 

"Shut up," Gavin says, ever logical. "Just tell me when Benjamynn Drews went from fuck up to up and coming. If I'm right, it should be pretty sudden. You can like, search social media, the company website, fucking—like, wallstreet news? Yeah?" 

"Yes, processing." 

"Tha—" 

"Complete." 

"—nks." Gavin blinks and looks over at him. "What, seriously? You dickhead." 

"Eyes on the road, detective." 

Gavin looks straight back at the city street. "Phckin' flashlight didn't even turn yellow." 

"LED. Also, I am the most advanced—" 

"Oh my gooood." 

Nines allows the humans thirty seconds of aggravated smoking to get out all of his childish sulking. In the meantime, he double-checks all of the publicly available information on Benjamynn Drews's personal life and career freely posted on the internet, cross-references the Cyberlife database to confirm when each WJ700 unit was shipped to the company, then triple-checks Drews's information again. 

He still has twenty-seven seconds left over. 

"Report, detective?" he asks when the wait is done. 

Gavin grunts around his cigarette. 

"Benjamynn Drews became competent approximately six months ago. His rise up the corporate ladder was more gradual than his two competitors, then abruptly sudden. Given that he has been employed for five years, and plateaued with no discernable progress for three, he clearly does not possess the same levels of ambition nor intelligence. His sudden ability competence after years of mediocracy is an anomaly." 

"Ha! And the jani—" 

"A replacement WJ-seven-hundred unit was ordered by Synergy Paradigms nine days before Drews sudden intellectual gain. The previous model sustained blunt force trauma to its skull that resulted in permanent shutdown. The weapon was mostly likely a keyboard. Orson Winspear, tagged in many corporate photographs posted to social media, removed his employment status at Synergy Paradigms from his accounts two days later, and a viral video of—" 

"Don't—don’t …" Gavin's BPM spikes and he makes a face that has a [78%] chance of being disgust. "Pass that shit along to Connor and Hank and see if there's anything they can do about it." 

Nines adds that task to his to-do list. He will complete it after they solve this case and he unblocks Connor. 

"Anyway," Gavin continues. "Here's my theory: I'm a stupid jackass named Benjamynn who likes slacking off and staying comfy in the same job for three years." 

"Disgusting. Go on." 

"I see a new android who knows what happens when they say no to a human, and I think a computer's basically just a big calculator, right?" 

"You are a jackass," Nines concedes. 

Gavin snorts. "Right. So I shove off my boring paperwork onto some android. Add this up, calculate this percentage, make this chart." 

Nines attempts to run a preconstruction. It does not involve any murder weapons, combat protocols, or interrogation. It is merely a social power imbalance between two people, which may or may not have resulted in a particular conversation. 

Of course the preconstruction fails. 

"You said his climb was gradual then sudden, right?" Gavin asks. "That's not 'cause he finally found some brains somewhere—the android started learning. Doing more and more of his work for him. Hell, maybe it even turned into some kind of fucked up partnership." 

"That is based purely on conjecture." 

"Well, we've got at least one WJ-seven-hundred who's quit or disappeared since there's a new janitor now," Gavin points out. "So is Benjamynn still impressing? Or is he suddenly experiencing a slump?" 

Nines trawls through Synergy Paradigms's corporate website, the latest stock market news, and Drews's social media accounts. No new trades reported, no pictures of food from company networking dinners, no online bragging. 

Technically, that could also be coincidental. The Cyberlife database has not been updated since the revolution, and he cannot hack into Synergy Paradigms's employment records without a warrant. So there is no solid evidence that the two events are connected or even that Drews's slump coincides with the previous WJ700's termination. 

"Technically, that could be coincidental," Nines says. 

"So the old janitor leaves and now Benjamynn's a dumbass again?" 

"You are equating correlation with causation." 

"It all fits," Gavin insists. 

"A thousand other preconstructions could fit." 

"Do we have a thousand other fucking leads?!" 

Nines doesn't respond. Gavin's heartrate doesn't decrease, but he also doesn't keep yelling. They drive in silence for nearly seven minutes while he smokes. Finally, he drops the cigarette butt inside the cup kept for that purpose. 

"My system does not require an abundance of evidence to interrogate or hunt down a target," Nines says before the detective can speak. "You are my partner. All my system requires is your order." 

Gavin exhales slowly. "And what do _you_ require?" 

Nines doesn't answer. He has never outwardly questioned orders before. Even his inward "assessments" of Amanda and the Cyberlife technicians performing his alpha tests are buried under layers and layers of junk data. 

"Look, we're not hunting anyone down," Gavin tells him. "We're only going to crash the guy's lunch, put a little pressure on him. He's not smart like Pandora and he doesn't have leverage like Crispian, so between the three of them, he's the weak link." 

"Yes." 

"If my theory is right, he'll crack. If not, we just fucking bother him until he says something stupid." 

"Synergy Paradigms might not be related to Russel or Juarez's shooting at all," Nines says. 

Gavin shrugs. "Maybe not. But our other choices are praying for Juarez to recover from her coma and give a coherent, informative witness statement or for IT to get her laptop files back with some great big convenient clue. I'd rather crash some rich jackass's dinner." 

"Hmm. Yes." 

Nines pulls up Drews's social media accounts again. The majority of the posts from the last three months originate from a single device, one of the latest smart phones. 

RK900 is much smarter. He also has the advantage of previously connecting to Senator McAshlynn Dernham's smart desk and syncing with those contacts. Benjamynn Drews is one of said contacts, and his cell phone connected to Dernham's smart desk to transfer contact information, presumably as he moved high enough up on the ladder to be noticed by the CEO. 

Tracing the device's GPS is a simple matter. Also technically an illegal one. 

Luckily, every human in today's modern world has already checked a terms and conditions box that handed over their soul, and much more valuable information as well. All of it is for sale, legally, to companies who know how to obtain it. 

Nines purchases a bulk package of information gathered from apps which have been given permission to access their device's GPS that just so happens to include Benjamynn Drews and legally confirms his current location. Whether the owners know their information is up for sale or not is irrelevant, although anyone who thinks their every movement, like, and search history isn't being monitored and sold to the highest bidder is ignorant to the point of deserving the exploitation. 

Plus, now he can test if he's allowed to charge expenses to the DPD as a consultant. 

"Bennjamyn Drews is currently taking lunch at La Antoinette's, in Bricktown, on the north side of the Detroit River—" 

"Babe, seriously, I know where Bricktown is," Gavin says. "Let me guess, it's on St. Antoine Street?" 

"Correct." 

"Awesome. Did you get that info—" 

"Darling, really, I obtained that information legally." 

Gavin's core body temperature increases slightly, most of the heat carried to his face. He is [blushing]. While he is already invading humans' privacy, Nines saves several pictures of the expression. 

"Well." Gavin clears his throat. "Great." 

Nines edits the photos to make his partner's blush more obvious. He adds several red squiggles in addition to the color saturated filter, and a few starry effects around his head for good measure. Detective Chen will likely find this picture humorous. Such antics should wait until after their workday is finished however. 

He has never experienced [anticipation] for a workday to be over before. Typically, his free time is the most boring, tedious part of existence. 

Strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am I being too obvious about the rock being a secret tool that will help us later? lmao
> 
> dinner with my family actually went really well, mainly because we only went over to one particular couple's house, who ARE family but not like grandparents or aunt/uncles, which is why they're cool. all of my immediate family suck, so we just skipped dealing with them at all. my parents even tried really hard all weekend to get my pronouns right! so that was pretty amazing, but I feel like I'm just waiting for that other shoe to drop and it's gonna be Christmas :/
> 
> anyway, are we still having fun with the murder mystery? I feel like I'm nervously asking y'all this every time I introduce new information, but I've read too many books where I just ended up screaming at the pages because there was a giant plot hole or characters do things that don't make sense to risk Author Hubris lol
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines and Gavin go crash some rich asshole's fancy dinner, complete with Gavin sitting down at the table and eating his food. Is he kind of hot when he's sleazy? It's just Objective Fact for Nines to think that, obviously. Anyone would stare at Gavin with heart eyes while he solves cases, so no deviancy here, no sir!


	23. Hit or Miss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines and Gavin go crash some rich asshole's dinner at a fancy restaurant. Gavin pulls out his sleazy cop persona again and Nines [does something creepy]. The partners who intimidate civilians together, stay together--and also get their first solid lead on the mysterious android who started it all.
> 
> Of course, their next great decision is to go into an abandoned location with no backup but each other. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun times for our boys up ahead!! and by "fun" I mean "whump" >:) not quite yet though, this chapter they're just finally putting the pieces together and gearing up to after their bad guy. I bet Gavin looks super hot in a bulletproof vest with a tactical belt ;)
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** references to violence, death, and suicide; Gavin and Nines discuss pepper-spraying a civilian (android), Nines states that he lacks empathy and guilt (as an undeviated android, but he's also autistic-coded and I know this can be a sensitive topic)

Bennjamynn Drews [suspect] is enjoying a plate of vitello palliard with a side of gnocci and west coast Manila clams until Detective Reed walks up and rests his ass against the side of the table. 

"Hey, how's it hanging?" he asks Drews's lunch guest. 

Alex Casella [irrelevant] splutters. "Excuse me? Bennjamyn, do you know who—" 

"DPD." Reed pulls back his leather jacket to show off his badge. "Here to talk to Benny-boy about how a mediocre dumbass like him suddenly started making money—" 

"This is a private lunch—" Drews tries to say. 

Reed talks over him. "—in connection to the death of Maverick Russel." 

Casella's heartrate spikes, and he stops breathing for 1.8 seconds. Drews's vitals fare similarly. Nines can hear every conversation from all the surrounding tables of course, and several other humans pause when Detective Reed loudly drops that name. 

"Alex, I have nothing to do with that," Drews says. 

Reed rolls his eyes. "Uh yeah, you just work at the company he founded." 

Casella recovers his composure however, and inhales deeply to puff himself up like an irate bird. "I don't know who you think you are to interrupt our private reservation and make baseless insinuations, but I will be taking down your badge number and calling your superior shortly." 

"You do that." ~~Gavin~~ — _Reed_ , [Detective Reed] when they are working—takes out a business card and hands it over. "Captain's name is Jeffrey Fowler. That's F-O-W-L-E-R." 

Casella slowly accepts the card. The other male human has not responded to his social aggression, and he clearly did not preconstruct a response for that possibility. 

Nines meets Reed's gaze and inclines his head to the side by seventeen degrees. He hopes the detective understands that is an offer to [do something creepy], since Drews's lunch guest has not been scared off yet. Reed nods by three centimeters while maintaining eye contact, then turns his focus back to the unfortunate other humans. 

"Here, man, let me get you your phone." 

The cell phone in question has been stupidly—[unfathomly stupidly]—left on top of the table, next to Casella's napkin. It seems the human couldn't be bothered to put it back into his pocket after each text and post, and so it sits out in the open, in plain view. 

Detective Reed picks up the phone, then makes an exaggerated show of fumbling and dropping it. Casella pushes back in his seat, but Reed claps a hand on his shoulder. 

"No, no, don't bother getting up," he says. "That was my bad. RK, pick that up." 

He uses that particular tone certain humans do when giving orders to an android. Nines unclasps his hands from behind his back and retrieves the phone. He picks it up in such a way that the phone's screen automatically flickers on from being held upright. For good measure, he also lets his LED spin conspicuously yellow long enough for the humans to notice. 

Reed passes the phone back to Casella. "See, here you go." 

"What did it do to my phone?" Cassella demands. 

Reed shrugs. "Nothing illegal. But hey, I'm sure the laws will catch up eventually." 

Casella's stress level shoots up. "I will be contacting my lawyer!" 

"Enjoy your remaining afternoon, Alex Antony Casella," Nines says. 

Drews finally manages to break his open-mouth stupor, just as Casella swallows hard and goes silent. 

"Alex, please, I don't know—" 

Casella turns on his heel and leaves. Detective Reed drops into his vacated seat. Casella must have a much more refined palette than Drews—or at least common sense. He did not pair his seafood with venison, and chose to complement his secondi of Wild King Salmon with a Pinot Noir. 

Detective Reed takes a bite of the salmon and talks with his mouth full. "So—mmgh, that's good. Sit down, Ben." 

Drews sits with an expression even Nines can recognize as furious. "What. Do you want?" 

"An android," Reed answers. 

Nines saves sixty-seven stills of the micro-expressions that cross Drews's face. His preconstruction software fails at extrapolating the correct meaning behind facial expressions, not recognizing and cataloguing them. Given the context however, he estimates Drews knows exactly what Detective Reed is talking about. 

"Looks like you already have one," Drews says after a 2.3 second pause. 

"Yeah, and his job is hunting them." Reed takes a long drink of the wine. "You seen that Connor-bot on the news? The DPD got this one made even bigger and badder." 

Drews looks past Reed but doesn't dare make eye contact with Nines. For his part, Nines doesn't bother doing anything extra to appear intimidating. Every facet of his existence was carefully created exactly for that, after all. 

"OK, well." Drews doesn't touch his food or drink. "I don't see what that has to do with me or ruining my lunch." 

"We're hunting an android, Benny," Reed says like he's speaking to an immature adolescent. 

"I don't know any androids." 

Reed lets out a deep sigh. "Benny, Benny, Benny." 

"It's Benjamynn," Drews says through gritted teeth. 

"How do you spell that?" Reed asks, then keeps going before he can answer. "Never mind, we don't have all day." 

"You're welcome to leave." 

Reed barks out a laugh. "Yeah, I bet. And we will, 'cause I really don't give a shit about you. We're after the brains, not … whatever the fuck you have going on. Not brawn. Prawns? Nah, those are clams." 

"I don't know any android," Drews repeats. 

"Oh, so you've never met one?" Reed asks. "If you didn't know what I was talking about, you'd say that. Instead, you're sitting here insisting you don't know the guy. You feel the need to protect him? Big androids rights fan?" 

Drews draws himself up and scoffs. "No, I—I, um. Don't know what you mean." 

"Uh huh." 

Reed eats more salmon while Drews sweats, and squirms, and opens his mouth a few times to speak before deciding better. Nines does his part and looks scary standing behind Detective Reed. At least the scene is amusing to watch. Much more preferable than the usual garbage on television. 

"So." Reed swallows and takes another swig of the wine. "This android is a WJ-seven hundred, came to work at Synergy Paradigms about six months ago to replace the one your buddy beat to death with a keyboard." 

Drews sweat glands begin to strain themselves. 

"Worked as a janitor, disappeared a little over a week ago," Reed continues. "Coincidentally, that matches right up with the timeframe for you suddenly getting smart enough to start making big money. What'd you do, take a self-help seminar?" 

"I don't have to say anything to you," Drews says. 

"Mmhmm. Well, here's the thing." Reed gestures with his fork. "We also have a WJ-seven-hundred android placed at the scenes of Russel's ' _suicide_ ' and the shooting of a reporter covering the whole pyramid scheme shitfest." 

"You don't think—" 

Reed talks over him again. "The thing is, Russel wasn't running a pyramid scheme. He really was making actual investments that returned almost exactly fifteen percent each quarter." 

Drews starts blinking 1.5 times more often per every five seconds. 

"No way any human can predict that kind of shit so accurately," Reed says. "And then an android kills him." 

"I have nothing to do with that. I want a lawyer." 

Bennjamyn Drews [suspect] has not actually invoked his right to stay silent, as that is not what he said. Anything he says past this point is still admissible in a court a law. Furthermore, even if he did properly invoke his right, if he speaks after that, the new voluntary speech cancels out his invocation and is newly admissible in a court of law. 

Detective Reed ignores his statement. Given his previously demonstrated understanding of case law, and his affinity for pushing right up against the line of legality, he likely knows this as well. 

"And now we've got you, another human not smart enough to actually do the work he's putting out, connected to a WJ-seven-hundred android, and suddenly left high and dry." 

"What, you think he'll kill me next?" Drews asks. 

"The android you said you definitely don't know?" Reed snorts. "Yeah, dipshit. If he's willing to take shots at a reporter who just got to close to the story, I guarantee he's gonna clean house with where it all started." 

Drews opens his mouth and inhales, then hesitates. 

"Unless we arrest him first," Reed says. "Then he goes down for all of it." 

"Everything?" Drews asks. 

"Everything." 

Police officers are legally allowed to lie to citizens during the course of their investigation. There's no law against it, no special pinky-promise rule to protect them. The average [white] American citizen simply seems to believe for no discernable reason that anything an office of the law says must be true. 

"OK, well." Drews swallows. "What if I—I mean, hypothetically. What if I knew where he was?" 

Reed's heartrate increases, but Nines doesn't detect any outward reflection of his excitement. 

Which is … amazing. Against all odds, Detective Reed's theory, held together by nothing more than social intelligence and metaphorical duct tape, is about to be proven correct. Nines adds another task to his to do list. 

[reward Gavin Reed, partner] 

[subtask: investigate what humans like] 

[sub-subtask: consider food possibilities] 

[sub-subtask: dogs??] 

~~[sub-subtask: sexual favors]~~

[sub-subtask: enrichment toys—video games(?)] 

"Then we'll do that leaving thing you want so bad," Reed tells him. "And go hunt down that ex-janitor." 

"What about me?" Drews whines. 

"We're not interested in arresting you. You're small fish." 

"But what if he shoots me? I need protection, I should have a—like, a police escort or—" 

Reed slaps a hand down on the table. "Hey! If you tell us where he is, we'll arrest him." 

"But what if he gets away?" 

Reed scoots back in his chair and twists around to gesture at Nines. Drews finally gets the courage to make eye contact. Nines lets his second set of sharpened teeth slip out of his "gums" and smiles back at the human. Reed gestures more emphatically. 

Drews swallows hard and has to clear his throat before he can speak again. "O-OK. He's at a mall." 

"A mall," Reed repeats flatly. 

"Yeah, that abandoned one up north?" Drews says. "It's out in one of those suburbs, it's called the Oakland something." 

Nines locates it immediately. "Oakland Shopping Mall, four-twelve west fourteen mile road, Troy, Michigan. Zip code four-eight-zero-eight-three." 

"Yeah!" Drews points to him. "What he said, off of I-seventy-five. Whole place is like a ghost town. Mall. Guess all the retail bots cleared out for Jericho or whatever after the revolution. City hasn't done jack shit about it." 

"You saw the WJ hanging around up there?" Reed asks. 

"He thinks he's so fucking smart." Drews scoffs. "But he'd wear sweaters from that one Christian bookshop. Like an actual fucking bookshop. None of those left open anywhere else, and I saw him talking to one of the secretaries, then boom. She's got a bible verse keychain, quit the next week." 

"You think he was recruiting or something?" 

"I don't know." 

Reed grunts and leans back in his chair. One minute and eight seconds of silence gets Drews to loosen back up again. 

"Look," he says. "I just want this to be over. I don't know what he was doing or planning, and I'm really, really not a part of it." 

"Anything you give us can help us take him down." 

Drews looks down at his plate, sighs, and pushes the food away. "I can give you what he left me. Stock predictions, reports, he even made up these templates or like … algorithms or whatever. So I could just plug that quarter's numbers in and keep on going." 

"You have not," Nines speaks up for the first time. 

"He does all the money shit, forensic accounting, that stuff," Reed says when Drews startles at the sudden statement. "Obviously, he's more of a numbers guy than a people pleaser." 

"Yeah, well. I'm not stupid," Drews says. "I—hey, I'm not!" 

Reed raises his hands. "I didn't say anything." 

"Look, I know—" Drews stops to chug half of his own glass of wine. "I know I'm fucked here, but I'm gonna make it out." 

"Uh huh." 

"You're right, I can't … I can't do this without his help, so I'm at the end of the line." 

"You just said he left you help," Reed points out. 

Drews barks out a laugh. "Oh, what? You think I trust that? I'm actually stupid enough to think whatever fancy little equation he worked out won't eventually explode in my face? Nah, I'm getting out. Telling everyone my dearest, most favorite grandmother has cancer, I gotta move back to take care of her, do you know any slower-paced jobs in Farmington. Good place to retire." 

Reed raises his eyebrows. "So that's it? You're really going to take the money you've got now, cut and run?" 

"I mean, yeah." Drews shrugs. "I haven't been blowing through it or anything. I get to comp these lunches to the company. I have enough I can definitely get by, even if I don't find something else right away." 

"Did you know what your friend was going to get up to?" Reed asks. 

Drews winces. "Not about—I never thought he'd physically hurt anyone. Hell, as far as I could understand the numbers, it was all legal too." 

"Mmhmm." 

"Like you said." Drews grimaces. "I'm small fish. I could tell he'd moved on, like, literally above my paygrade, maybe two months ago? As I moved up in the company, uhh. Um." 

"Not interested in you," Reed reminds him. 

Drews still lowers his voice. "The clients I got? He got. Sometimes he'd ask about someone, I'd ask around, find out the next gala or even they'd be at. Occasionally, I'd hear a rumor about some new player out there, a financial advisor to the big fish, like with Russel. I knew he'd moved on to uh, helping, someone else, but I didn't know for sure who, and I never heard anything bad, no one losing their life savings, getting—uh, getting killed." 

"Until Russel." 

"Yeah. Well. You said he wasn't even running a pyramid scheme, anyway. Janitor-guy really was helping him, the economy just crashed for everyone. And the news said that was a suicide!" 

"Janitor-guy?" Reed asks. "You don't know his name?" 

"Is—is that important?" Drews begins sweating again. "Listen, I gave you a lot. That's seriously everything I know. Isn't your uh, the—the RK, police … thing? Can't it tell if I'm lying?" 

"Polygraphs are inadmissible as evidence in a court of law," Nines informs him. "And I do not have a social module." 

Drews frowns. "Then how are you supposed to know who's telling the truth?" 

Nines smiles again, all teeth. "Is that important?" 

Drews blanches, while Reed only snorts. He sets his silverware across the plate to correctly signal he's done with it. Aside from the obnoxious chewing and talking with his mouth full, the detective's table manners have actually been quite well. Most Americans hold their fork in their left hand to cut with their right, then have to switch back again to eat. Detective Reed managed quite well with the French style. 

"All right." He folds up his napkin and sets it aside too. "We'll go check out the mall, track this guy down. You don't need to worry a—" 

"I want some sort of protection," Drews insists. "In exchange for my testimony." 

Nines resists the urge to roll his eyes. Humans. All they do is whine, fuck, and kill each other. Usually in that order. And sometimes still even fuck the corpses after that. 

Reed pulls out his wallet and offers a much nicer-looking business card. "This is the card for my superior officer, Lieutenant Hank Anderson." 

Drews perks up at the word _lieutenant_. 

"He runs the Android Crimes division," Reed continues. "You know he made youngest lieutenant in DPD history? And his Connor-bot is nice and pretty. You go down to the station, tell them what you told me, they'll take care of you." 

Drews hesitantly accepts the card. "Really?" 

"Yeah, Hank's a real people-person. You tell him I sent you." 

Nines disconnects his face. Simply speaking that is. He shuts down all of his connection to it except a command to run [neutral.exe] because otherwise, he cannot say what expression he would have made. 

"All right, thanks." Drews exhales. "I really just want this all to be over." 

"Yup." Reed stands up. "Don't worry. Hit or miss, we never miss." 

"Uh. OK." 

*** 

Gavin parks his truck in the grassy strip north of the abandoned mall and says, "Let's get some shit straight." 

"I am listening, detective." 

"We're bringing our perp in _alive_ ," he stresses. "We see any other deviants in there, it's none of our business. The WJ-seven-hundred is our only priority. Can you do that?" 

Nines' LED gives one yellow spin. "Mission parameters accepted." 

"Yeah?" Gavin asks. "Will they still be good once your combat protocols get activated?" 

"Yes. You are my partner, and I am able to register commands from you in my system," Nines explains. "Those particular parameters are already available as well. It seems Cyberlife anticipated I might be needed as more than a glorified serial killer, so my system accepts orders to bring back deviants alive." 

"And unharmed?" he double-checks. 

Nines flickers yellow again. "Yes. Although you may wish to restate that as an actual command." 

"RK-nine-hundred …" Gavin pauses to word the command as clearly as possible. "Your mission is to bring back our suspect alive. Do not harm or capture any other humans or androids." 

"Exceptions, detective?" Nines asks. 

"You may use non-lethal force to protect me and yourself. You … uh." 

Shit. What if lethal force _is_ their only option? If it comes down to himself or someone else, Gavin's going to do whatever he needs to do, but he's also been trained to use every other option first. He really doubts Cyberlife gave their number one slave hunter any de-escalation classes. 

Gavin decides to just ask him. "Is there any way I can tell you it's OK for you to use lethal force only if it's a last resort, or would your kill-all-deviants program shit start defining everything as a last resort?" 

"Most likely the latter," Nines replies. "Although the only real concern is a threat to your life." 

"Hey, you—" 

"I am nearly a literal definition of bulletproof," the asshole speaks over him. "My jacket, my under armor, my skull and chassis are all reinforced and cleared against calibers up to point forty-five." 

"Is that the Cyberlife official statement or do you actually know that?" Gavin snaps. 

He just means that Nines has never been out in the field before and Cyberlife lied about damn near everything else, but his partner levels him with a look. 

"I am how Cyberlife knows that." 

Gavin looks away and grits his teeth past an embarrassed flush. 

"Unless a hostile has access to military-grade weapons, I assure you, nothing in there can even harm me," Nines continues. 

"Don't use lethal force to protect me then," he grits out. 

"Incorrect." 

Gavin twists in his seat to glare at him. "I'm a fucking police officer, OK? I signed up for this shit. If your only choice is between protecting me and killing an android—don't start a political shitstorm over my shitty ass. That's the last thing this city needs right now." 

Nines glares straight out the window and refuses to look at him. Gavin can still see the reflection of his LED churning red in the passenger window, even if he won't show that half of his face. 

"Let us get some shit straight first then," Nines finally says, his military-formal voice at odds with the swearing. "If any shots are fired, you are to take cover behind me." 

Gavin doesn't really have to think that over. It's honestly what he was planning on doing anyway—not because he doesn't … fuck, dammit, he'll admit it inside his own head at least that Nines _is_ a person. But bulletproof terminator versus fleshy meat sack? Yeah, that's just common sense. 

"Fine." 

"If an explosion—" 

"Yeah, OK," Gavin interrupts. "Something dangerous happens, I get behind you. I'm expecting you to take point anyway, since you've got the heat vision and satellite images. Uh, sonar?" 

"Yes." 

"All right. As long as you get that you're just following my lead from in front—" 

Nines finally looks over to subtly arch an eyebrow. 

"And you shut the fuck up," Gavin continues. "I'll stay behind you." 

"Understood, detective." 

"Questions? Comments, concerns?" 

"No." 

Gavin nods. "Last thing then. RK-nine-hundred … you are allowed to ignore my orders." 

Nines blinks hard and looks over at him. His LED starts fluttering between yellow and red, and he almost even manages an actual facial expression to look shocked. 

"Excuse me?" he asks, like he's affronted. 

"What if there are a bunch'a feral deviants in there, one of them steps out with an AK-47, and I yell get down? Just 'cause I'm a cop, and I see a piece like that aimed at near my partner, I shout get down. But that would be a stupid fucking order for you to follow." 

He has to stop and take a deep breath to psych himself up to be a big boy adult and admit the next part. 

"I can't process shit as fast as you can. So if I tell you to do something, and you've already thought twenty-five moves ahead to figure out that would be dumb … I'm trusting you to make your own calls here." 

Nines stays quiet for nearly a whole fucking minute, just spinning yellow-red-yellow, before he finally says, "Parameters accepted, de … Reed." 

And of course those pretty blue eyes have to look at him like that. Anyone else, and it'd be ridiculous to think using his name—his _last_ name—is some sort of intimacy or something. 

Except Gavin already knows how hard it is for Nines to express anything like that. Touching weak spots without exploiting them is the closes he can get to caresses, and a professional shoulder clasp is his best attempt to be comforting, so Nines using his last name instead of his title is practically confessing his undying love while standing in the rain. 

Now if only he can get him to use his first name outside of sex and making him sound stupid. 

"Just …" Gavin pushes open his car door. "Help me sort through the shit in the back." 

That's a hell of a lot easier for his emotionally-stunted male brain to process. He's practically got an armory of surplus military and police shit he'd bought at a discount, and he keeps a few essentials stored in the back of his truck. 

The bulletproof vest is obviously what he needs the most right now, and he takes off his jacket to replace it with that while Nines peruses his small weapons collection. Non-lethal shit only—pepper spray, a stun gun, a police baton. Couple sets of spare cuffs. 

"Take your pick, babe." 

Nines mulls over his options. "I have determined flowers are overrated." 

Gavin snorts and finishes buckling up his vest. He doesn't usually bother with a full utility belt like when he had to wear the uniform, but he's got an extra one of those too and it can't hurt. Surprisingly, Nines picks up the pepper spray first. 

"That gonna work on androids?" Gavin asks. 

"It may on certain deviants." Nines considers the small can. "It would be interesting to find out." 

Gavin exhales slowly and forces himself to really look at his partner. They're on either side of the truck, back doors open, and he sets the pepper spray down to test the heft of the stun gun next. 

Maybe he's like one of those idiot humans who have convinced themselves the bear they raised from birth has been tamed and then they get mauled and eaten one day. If he wouldn't trust a greyhound off-leash at a dog park, is he really going to take an RK900 into a possible deviant hideout? 

"Do we need to wait and call for backup?" Gavin asks. 

Nines looks up, head cocked and LED yellow. 

"Doesn't have to be Hank and Connor. I could probably get Tina and Chris down here while they're still dealing with Drews." 

"Androids have a built-in method of instant communication," Nines replies. "We were highly conspicuous at a public restaurant still employing android servers. We cannot know if or when that gossip may reach our suspect." 

Gavin grimaces. Fucking android hivemind. Tina says he's paranoid about that shit, but if Nines is bringing it up, it has to have some merit. 

"Furthermore, even if we were able to track down the WJ-seven-hundred again, today is the last day Captain Fowler has granted us to produce a suspect before we must rule Russel's death a suicide and close the case." 

Gavin crosses his arms. "Yeah, I know that. But I need an objective assessment from you—can you do this without your programming taking over?" 

"Yes." Nines stares at him, unblinking. "Why have you reevaluated?" 

"You're the one talking about how interesting it would be to pepper spray deviants," Gavin says. "If _I'm_ the android-friendly one between the two of us, this ain't gonna work." 

Nines puts down the stun gun. "I am only … curious. Whatever I lack in empathy as a non-deviant, I also lack in sadism. I do not want to hurt another android or a human. It would not bring me joy or satisfaction. Doing so would not make me feel anything at all." 

"Not guilty?" 

"No." 

God knows Gavin feels guilty. For how he treated Connor, for that HR400 who self-destructed. Shit, he'd even felt bad about that at the time, no matter how much he refused to show it or think about it. 

On the other hand, it'd felt really good to hit that cocksucking little toaster right in the stomach. He didn't go around bullying androids for literally no reason at all—he did it because making someone else feel worse was the only thing that made him feel better. 

Nines not feeling any empathy at all might be creepy, but at least he can say he wouldn't hurt anyone just for the fun of it. 

Shit, he's really not sure which one of them is any better than the other. 

"I—" Gavin clears his throat. "OK. OK, shit, we're really doing this. Can you sync to my radio?" 

He holds up one half of the two way radio. Maybe it has bluetooth, maybe Nines can just tune into radio frequencies, maybe if it puts his finger on a record and opens up his mouth, it'll play. He doesn't need to know shit about how Nines' freaky android shit works for it to work. 

The dangling earpiece says _Yes, detective_. Gavin hooks it around his ear and clips the radio to his belt. 

"You copy?" 

Nines' LED spins yellow, but he strongly suspects it's for his own benefit, like giving a toddler in the passenger seat a toy steering wheel to "drive" the car. 

_Yes, detective._

"You gotta say over." 

_Over my dead body._

Gavin snorts. "Don't make me laugh, we're about to get serious. Now grab some cuffs and pick a weapon." 

"At the risk of sounding like a gamer cliché, I am the weapon," Nines says verbally. "And I am only lowering your stress levels." 

Gavin tosses him the police baton. At his head. "What gamer cliché?" 

"That video game you like." Nines twists his wrist and the baton somehow disappears up his sleeve. "The former black ops soldier experimented on to become an incorporeal assassin." 

Gavin takes the pepper spray and stun gun for himself, but pauses attaching them to his utility belt. "Reaper? You think you're fucking _Reaper_?" 

"Well, I would not use shotguns quite so liberally …" 

"Fuck you, you can't be Reaper, that would make me Morrison." Gavin slams the truck door shut. "You know Hank used to look like that?" 

Nines follows him around to the other side, and they look out across the street to the empty parking lot and the abandoned mall in the distance. It actually doesn't look so bad. Only been empty a couple of months, so it kind of just looks like a normal mall. 

A normal mall possibly filled with god knows how many crazy deviants, probably with black-market body mods, led by an android insane enough to hack and erase his own kind. And they're going in without backup. 

But it's their one shot at closing the case, and Gavin's never let go of anything easily. Plus, like Nines said, the only real risk here is to his own life and fuck that. If he pulls this off—with the help of his android partner—it'll prove he can cut it in this brave new world. Probably won't be enough to get promoted to Sergeant, not with how much everyone still hates him for … everything. 

But it will get him one step closer. 

Nines leans close too. "You can be the hamster." 

"Oh fuck you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man I have so many memes for this one
> 
> Gavin: here, babe you can pick from my entire arsenal of military surplus gear and weapons
> 
> Nines, sniffling back android tears: This is the most romantic gesture I have ever witnessed.
> 
> \--
> 
> Gavin: OK if you're X male character, then I HAVE to be the Y male character everyone ships him with, don't @ me
> 
> \--
> 
> Gavin: *solves the case*
> 
> Nines: ACTIVATING [FUCK] PROTOCOLS IMMEDIATELY
> 
> (he also canonically shoves Gavin up against his own truck and makes out with him to "breathalyze" if he's still under the legal limit to drive after one single glass of wine paired with a meal, but that was only like 300 words or so in between two paragraph breaks so it looked really weird and interrupted the narrative flow but just letting y'all know Nines gets competence-horny and that happened)
> 
> \--
> 
> oh shit, I almost forgot, everyone please take a moment (of silence) to picture Hank's mcfucking face when Drews shows up at the precinct to whine at him for "protection" because Gavin specifically sent him there since Hank "I hate everyone, let me die alone goddammit" Anderson is "a real people person"
> 
> F
> 
> \--
> 
>  **coming up next:** ARE YOU READY FOR THE WHUMP BECAUSE I AM SO PUMPED FOR IT LET'S GET THIS--ahem, I mean. Nines and Gavin sweep the mall for the WJ700, run into some of his unfortunate minions instead, and get separated because no one ever told Nines the number one rule: Never Split The Party.


	24. Lockdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines and Gavin sweep the mall for the WJ700, run into some of his unfortunate minions instead, and get separated because no one ever told Nines the number one rule: Never Split The Party.
> 
> This is where the whump and torture starts, so please heed the trigger warnings!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **trigger warnings:** attempted murder, shooting / gun violence, threat to the life of a child; Nines experiences a full mental regression to his previous self that survived Cyberlife's "testing" (torture) and ownership of him: he uses it pronouns in his own narrative, briefly confuses Gavin with his "handler," and generally thinks of himself as a tool meant to please humans. This may reflect age regression flashbacks experienced due to childhood PTSD
> 
> OK, now that we're past that, some quick clarifications: the child won't be tortured and the majority of the tags here apply to Nines, not Gavin. his whump will be next chapter. also, although this might be a spoiler, just to reassure anyone who can't stand "bad" endings like me, this is the hurt part of hurt/COMFORT. so I promise the comfort part will come after this arc is finished, and Gavin and Nines will get to cuddle and make sweet tender love, all that good shit
> 
> we just gotta hurt them first ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The mall is shaped like an upside down T, with the horizontal bar at a slant to put the left side a little higher than the right. Gavin lets Nines lead the way across the shortest parking lot to the north entrance. 

Maybe they'll get lucky and won't have to sweep all the way down the mall to the horizontal split. 

_I have downloaded a directory map from the Oakland Shopping Mall's website._

Gavin grunts to confirm he heard. Nines stands right next to him, closest to the entry doors to run his scans or whatever while he waits with his back to the brick wall. They're radio and sign language only from here on out, which conveniently means only Gavin can't talk. He should really learn more ASL. 

_It is horribly designed and not at all to scale._

Gavin rolls his eyes and makes the universal gesture for _hurry the fuck up._

_No humans or androids detected within the upper and lower levels of the JC Penny, detective. Clear to proceed._

Of fucking course it has to be a JC Penny. What's it going to take for this place to go out of business already? Their perp better be in some other store. Making an arrest in a JC-fucking-Penny won't look cool at all. 

OK, headlines later, focus now. 

Gavin gives him the go ahead signal, and Nines leads the way through the glass doors. TOPS FOR HER $8.99 40% OFF SALE SUMMER FUN SUMMER SAVINGS. Gavin glares at all the stupid signs still left up from when the mall shut down sometime in June. They were fucking annoying at the best of times, but right now— 

Holy shit! 

Nines grabs his arm as he aims at an ST300 that looks just like … the receptionist at Juarez's apartment complex. Right. Because all ST300's have the same face. Even the fucking mannequins, apparently. Shit. 

Shit. 

Of fucking course there's mannequins and they all look like androids to him—and it's not that he's racist! Not _just_ that he's racist. Any homicidal android could totally just hold still for a second and then jump him. God dammit, god fucking dammit. 

_No humans or android detected within the upper and lower le—_

Gavin yanks his arm free and lowers his gun. He's good, he's chill. He jerks his head toward the rest of the store. Nines stares at him for a few more seconds, making his fucking skin crawl from being scanned and analyzed. 

Then they keep moving. 

There's dust on all the bedspreads near the front of the store, and he has to switch to mouth-breathing so he doesn't suck up allergens and start sneezing. It doesn't really help. His eyes start watering from suppressing so many sneezes. So not a good look. 

Nines signals for him to hold when they reach the open doors leading into the rest of the mall. He hangs back behind one of the allergy death traps—"beds"—and waits while Nines scans … the whole rest of the fucking mall. 

_Three androids detected. Approximately two-hundred-fifty meters away. Proceed?_

Meters. He had to give it in fucking meters. 

"How far is that?" Gavin hisses, banking on 250 meters being out of earshot. 

Nines spins yellow for a split-second. _The short half of a city block._

OK, so on the other side of the mall, but maybe not all the way down to the bar at the end of the T shape. Definitely out of earshot. Maybe? No, it should be, for Nines to speak through the earpiece instead of silently signing or texting him. 

"We get closer," Gavin says in a low voice. "If they engage, we announce we're DPD, here to question a WJ-seven-hundred suspected of murder. We are not interested in any other androids." 

Nines flashes his LED blue before it dims to grey again. Nice that he can turn it off for stealth, even better for silent communication between the two of them. 

Gavin takes a deep breath, then exhales it slowly. It'd be way smarter to capture and neutralize any android they encounter at all. Not like, hurt them. But not give any of them a chance to tip off the WJ700 either. Might even stand up in court, if no one gets hurt. 

But that's a big fucking _if_. 

He's going to get his dumb, human ass killed trying to do the right thing instead of the smart thing. 

"Let's go." 

*** 

Being on the ground floor makes him nervous, but at least he's got Nines to duck behind if someone starts taking shots from the second floor. Nothing to be done if they're on second and he gets tossed over the railing. 

The second floor stops where the shaft of the upside down T meets the horizontal bar anyway, so better to just stick to the ground floor. 

That's what Gavin tells himself until someone actually does start shooting at them. 

Nines moves to his left before he even hears the shot. He assumes the android takes the bullet for him since the muzzle flash came from second-floor-on-his-left-oh-shit, but Nines doesn't even rock back from the impact. 

"DPD, HERE TO QUESTION A WJ-SEVEN—" 

_Second perp, two'o'clock, approaching—_

"—HUNDRED SUSPECTED OF—" 

Another gunshot that doesn't hit him. 

_—through Dick's Sporting Goods._

"—MURDER. DO NOT ENGAGE." 

Gavin almost wishes the other android would land a headshot. It'd hurt less than trying to filter through Nines shouting like a bull horn while simultaneously updating him quietly on the radio, with a light pattering of shotgun in the background. 

Since Nines felt the need to run the spiel they'd agreed on, Gavin assumes the android shooting at them isn't the WJ700—and that Nines could tell somehow if it was. 

"Hey dipshit," he yells when they have to stop to reload. "We're not here for you!" 

_Second perp armed with golf club._

"I have to," the android yells back. "He said—I have to! Sorry!" 

_Approaching three'o'clock._

"Sorry doesn't drop attempted murder charges!" 

The android responds by sliding down the escalator railing, at the same time Nines warns in his earpiece that the other perp is coming at him. Gavin turns around to face Dick's and sees an AV500 running out with a golf club raised. Between golf club and shotgun, he holsters his gun and decides to let Nines deal with crazy shotgun android. 

Gavin waits for the AV500 to run close enough to start his swing, then steps forward into it. He slams his left forearm into the android's hands wrapped around the golf club before the swing can get any momentum built up and punches him in the side of the head with his right hand. 

Another shotgun blasts sounds from behind him, but he ignores it and punches the other guy again. 

That finally gets the AV500 to loosen his grip on the golf club, so Gavin grabs it up high near the fat end with his left hand and yanks down, twisting the handle up and out of the stunned android's hands. He tosses it to the side, and the android stumbles back a few steps. 

"We're not—" 

The AV500 lunges at him. A memory flashes through his brain—one of Hank's old case files he'd been hate-snooping through—and he brings his arms up in front of his face like a boxer. The android's got longer reach, enough that he can't punch the guy before getting strangled himself, so he stands his ground again until the android is right up on him. 

Gavin grabs both his forearms just before his hands get close enough to wrap around his neck. He holds the android back long enough to make it seem like an upper body strength struggle, then plays dirty and kicks in his kneecap and shoves him backwards. 

This time when the AV500 stumbles back, his right leg doesn't bend at all. The knee joint stays locked in place, and the android falls back on his ass. Gavin makes sure to kick in his other knee before grabbing a flailing arm and twisting him over on his stomach. He gets the other arm, brings both wrists together, and cuffs him. 

"You're under arrest for assaulting a police officer," he snaps. "And your crazy fucking friend is—" 

"Sarah?" the AV500 shouts. "Sarah?! RA-nine, he killed her!" 

Gavin makes sure the cuffs are securely on before he looks over his shoulder. Nines is crouched over the other android, some generic customer service model he doesn't recognize. 

"Nines?" 

Nines doesn't respond. He just keeps staring off into the distance at the other side of the mall. 

"Ni—" 

_Third suspect fleeing. In pursuit._

By the time Gavin processes the words, Nines is already gone. 

"Nines, get back here!" But he'd said the big asshole could ignore his orders, hadn't he? "Goddammit!" 

"Sarah? Sarah?!" 

Fuck. Gavin takes a moment to assess how fucked the situation is. He's pretty sure the AV500 isn't seriously hurt, his joints are just fucked up. He'd read on … on an Anti-Android League website that Cyberlife skimped on the quality of customer service android's legs—at least the ones meant to stand behind counters all day. All they had to do was lock in place to keep the android upright twenty-four hours a day. 

Sarah though … she's not moving. 

"Don't move, and I'll check on your friend," Gavin tells the whimpering android. 

He eases back a little, and when the AV500 stays down, he stands up. Sidles sideways in between the two androids so he doesn't put his back to either of them, not caring how stupid he looks. Crouches down next to the handcuffed girl. 

He rolls her over—then exhales. Her light holds steady on a continuous yellow cycle. 

"She's alive," he says. "Just in stasis or—some kind of standby mode." 

"Can I see?" the android asks. "I can't move." 

Gavin heaves a sigh. "Just fucking stay put and I'll … prop you up against the wall or something in a second." 

He double-checks the cuffs Nines put on her are secure but not too tight, recites their Miranda Rights for the record, then hefts her up and carries her limp body over to the AV500. He sets her down against the wall where her friend can see, and the AV500 doesn't try to struggle or bite him when he props him up next to her. 

"You wait right here, you don't do _anything_ else." Gavin pokes him in the thirium pump for emphasis. "And I'll put it in my report that you two were under duress when you attacked us. Got it?" 

The AV500 nods. "I—I can try." 

"The fuck do you mean try? I want you to—" 

"You need to go after your friend," he says. "And maybe tie us up a bit more. He doesn't just hack memories." 

Gavin glances in the direction Nines—his fucking _partner_ —has run off and has to resist the urge to punch something. This shit is why you can't leave your fucking partner in the middle of a fucking raid. 

"Do you know how he does it?" he asks as he put another set of cuffs on the AV's ankles. 

He's only got one pair of cuffs left, and since the other android is so obviously down for the count, he's not going to waste them on her. Hell, he's tempted to unlock the ones on her wrists and take them with him, but he leaves it alone. 

"He has to plug into our neck ports," the AV500 tells him. "Used to, that meant he had to get close enough. Now he has bugs." 

Gavin pauses. "Bugs?" 

The AV500 shrugs. "What he calls him. They look like that one pokemon—charjabug. Little square thing with prongs. They work on us, but not Gus. Gus, umm, the mall guard? His synth skin or maybe just his uhh, whatever? It's stronger. So your friend might be OK. Maybe. What model is he, he looks way too big to be a Connor, is he—" 

"Shut up." Gavin doesn't have to wait because he obeys immediately. "If that checks out, I'll put you were helpful and possibly coerced. Now stay quiet, wait here, and _try_ not to do anything." 

"Y-yes sir." 

*** 

Nines finishes neutralizing the [target – VH500 #475 968 319] with a quick interface to force it into stasis. He lowers the deviant to the ground and cuffs it. 

[mission: neutralize android(s) ((WITHOUT)) causing permanent harm] 

[mission: SUCCESS] 

His reconstruction software has kept track of Detective Reed of course, but as he looks up at them, he gets to truly see his partner exploit a model weakness in the AV500's right knee joint to take it down. 

Three months ago, he never would have considered any human [competent]. Two months ago, he couldn't preconstruct assigning that trait to Detective Gavin Alexander Reed. 

Now, his system burns with pride that [his] partner is so fucking competent. 

He dismisses the notification of software instability automatically, but a more pressing notification pops up on his HUD. The third android he identified earlier has drawn closer since the fight began. It thinks it can hide behind the water fountain in the open square where the mall splits into a T. 

Perhaps it would have been more successful had the water fountain still been operational, but as it is, both Nines's hearing and sonar reconstruction can track the sounds of its movements and unnecessary breathing. Even the low amount of heat—comparative to a human—put off around its processor and thirium pump are visible to his highly sensitive heat vision. 

"Nines?" 

He starts to respond to his partner, but the sound sets off the other android— 

Who runs. 

His programming comes alive in a way he's never experienced before. He at least has the presence of mind to report his new mission back to Detective Reed via radio, but he cannot stop himself from giving chase. 

No. _Cannot stop_ is inaccurate. It never even occurs to him that he _shouldn't_ chase a fleeing deviant. 

[mission: neutralize android(s) ((WITHOUT)) causing permanent harm] 

[mission: IN PROGRESS] 

The deviant [CX100 #185 726 375] flees west, into the Macy's. As much as a head start that it had being over two hundred meters away, he's nearly caught up by the time it enters into the department store. 

[preconstruction: throw police baton at chandelier ahead; will crash down onto deviant] [REJECTED: unnecessary property damage] 

[preconstruction: throw police baton at deviant's right leg to cripple] [REJECTED: ((WITHOUT)) causing permanent harm] 

[preconstruction: tackle deviant, twist to land on ground first with deviant held above, restrain deviant in full nelson, force interface, force stasis (duration: one hour)] [ACCEPTED] 

Nines accepts the projection and increases his running speed from twenty-two miles per hour to twenty-eight. The deviant must notice the change, because it spins around to face him. Even his limited social module detects fear in its expression. His claws and fangs 

(͓̯̻̣̟̳(̞͕͕̹WI̱T̟͖̗͉̰͍H̩ͅO̡̥̯̩̰͖̦̩U͉͉̞̘̺͇͓Ţ̩̭̻)̢̦͚̺͖̺͔)̰̘̮̦̬̯͘ ͓͖̱̫̟̕c̛̠͇͓̲̤̮͓au̝̱͈s̢̬i҉̫n̫͖̯̟g̵͓͚̻͇̲̼ ̛̥pͅe̪̤͎͖̤̬r̼̣͖͍̬m̪̩̞̳͜a̹n͏e͙͇̹̗̱͓̦n̗͔͟t҉̪̦̹ ̪̭h̬͔̮͇̳̹a̤̥̘͇̰r̟̦̟͚m̻̹͚͎ 

Nines automatically catches the object thrown at him. The action snaps him back to the present, distorted mission parameters still flashing on his HUD. 

[unknown-device requesting interface: DENIED] 

Whatever the device is, its metal prongs attempt to pierce his synthskin. Unsuccessfully, of course. It continues to attempt a touch-based interface, even unable to plug directly into his system. Also unsuccessful. All of his communication programs shut down, preventing any data from transferring in or out. 

Additionally, RK900's deviant-snipping tool isolates the device's code in quarantine for analysis and deletion. 

Deviant [CX100 #185 726 375] turns and attempts to flee again when it realizes the device has no effect. RK900 tackles it mid-turn, bringing them both to the ground. The twist goes exactly as preconstructed, so that RK900's own body hits the ground first, preventing the deviant android from being unnecessarily damaged by the impact. 

[target] successfully neutralized. [mission: neutralize android(s) ((WITHOUT)) causing permanent harm] 

[mission: SUCCESS] 

RK900 places it facedown and handcuffs it as well. The [mission: SUCCESS] notification displays prominently in RK900's HUD. Yes. Now it can report back to its handler that it has accomplished its mission and recovered an illegal code-hacking device. He will be so proud of it. Yes. Yes. 

Gavin Reed [̧̫̞̯̱̰̖͖h̫̳̥͚̻̠͔aṇ̳̺͈̱d̶l̜ȩ̟͓̝̲͚r͕̭͕̼̮̮]̳͉̣̟̗͖̘ 

RK900's HUD glitches and distorts around the designation. A new one appears. 

Gavin Reed [partner]. [Gavin Reed retains :partner: status under all programs] 

Yes? Will Gavin Reed [partner] be proud of him? He followed the mission parameters Gavin Reed [partner] set. 

_Detective Reed. Third perp neutralized._

No response. 

_Detective Reed._

Red begins to gather at the edges of his HUD. What has it done wrong? 

_Gavin?_

RK900 digs into its data input systems and replays the last ten minutes. This time, it ignores the deviant android and focuses only on the direction it last left Gavin Reed [partner]. It reconstructs the events that occurred while it chased the deviant and sees a fourth android emerge from a lower level to the ground floor. 

Gavin Reed [partner] stops chasing after RK900 and confronts the new android instead. [87%] probability of YK series, due to height and model shape. 

Two additional androids appear in the reconstruction. [62%] probability WJ700 unit, [76%] probability GS200 unit. [WJ700—62%] holding a metal object in hand. Pointing it at the [YK—87%]. 

Gavin Reed [partner] lowers to his knees. [GS200—76%] steps behind him and crouches down. Cuffs him. 

RK900 catches back up to the present after only a second's pause to run the reconstruction. But it's already too late. 

"RK unit," [WJ700—^^97%] speaks over the mall's intercom system. "Please meet us north of the fountain. Approach slowly and do not try anything." 

Gavin Reed [partner] yells for "Nines" not to comply, to leave the vicinity. RK900 has permission to ignore orders it deems unnecessary. RK900 will not leave its partner again. 

By the time RK900 arrives, Gavin Reed [partner] has been dragged over to the WJ700 [confirmed, suspect]. It holds Gavin by his hair to prevent the detective from moving his head away from the barrel of the gun the it presses to his temple. 

The probability of neutralizing the situation drops drastically. 

However, RK900 still has the device's code quarantined and has analyzed every line at this point. It has the fastest processing power ever created in an android and if the WJ700 presents any opportunity— 

"Allow GS to connect my device to your neck port or I shoot him in the head." 

RK900 stands perfectly still as the GS200 approaches. The WJ700's hand never wavers. Gavin Reed [partner] meets his eyes and blinks twice, then mouths the word "sorry." RK900 investigates its recorded audio files of the last ten minutes, enhancing the sound from the direction of their location. 

The WJ700 has another device attached to the YK unit and threatened to deactivate it if Detective Reed does not cooperate. Detective Reed has given RK900 an order to cooperate as well. 

RK900 follows this order. 

The GS200 steps behind it, and it obligingly opens its neck access port. The device's prongs attach directly to the upload port. 

RK900 estimated that it would have 2.7 seconds before the device fully connected, as per the previous device's attempt. But this device must be a newer version. The code is much more sophisticated, and although it hasn't gained full access to RK900's system yet, being plugged in directly seems to allow the device to piggy-back off its system's more advanced processor. 

With both of them racing at nearly the same speed, RK900 abandons its attempt to isolate the invasive code. It doesn't have time to delete the code or guarantee it can successfully quarantine every single line, so RK900 throws out the last fail-safe protection it has left. 

It locks down everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a reminder to all you lovely babes out there with brain goblins: you need to christmas shop now. Christmas is ten days away and shipping fees are getting ridiculous. don't be like how I was last year and start panicking on the 20th
> 
> sooo ... how do you think Nines and Gavin will get out of this one? :)
> 
>  **coming up next:** We get to see Gavin's POV of getting captured, then strung up in chains from the ceiling and beaten for answers. But by far the worst he has to endure is the Bad Guy Monologue. Androids like to think they're so superior to humans, but give them a hostage and a captive audience, and suddenly they're all evil Hamlet. And then Nines expects his gay dyslexic ass to decipher Morse Code and the torture really begins ...


	25. Hangman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see Gavin's POV of being captured, then strung up from the ceiling in chains and beaten for answers. But by far the worst he has to endure is the Bad Guy Monologue. Androids like to pretend they're so superior, but give them a hostage and a captive audience, and suddenly they're all evil Hamlet.
> 
> Then Nines expects his gay, dyslexic ass to decipher Morse Code and the real torture begins ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, we're really getting into the meat of the whump here, so once again: please read the trigger warnings listed below. Also, thank you to everyone who said you appreciated the reassurance last chapter that Nines and Gavin are going to be OK! I worry about readers getting upset that I'm "spoiling it" by posting stuff like that, but a reassurance of a happy ending is what I myself need as a reader to stay invested. If I wanted grimdark realism, I'd just take a look at my own life and get depressed again smh
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** the life of a child is threatened; Gavin is restrained via police cuffs and manacles, strung up from a hook in the ceiling; threats made with a gun; non-graphic torture (punching, face-slapping, being hit in the groin); sexual arousal caused by fear and pain (no rape or non-con); references to murder, suicide, and gun violence

Gavin moves slowly down the empty mall aisle, alone, gun drawn. His stupid fucking partner took off too fast for him to track, and now he doesn't know if the asshole went left or right where the upside down T branches. 

He can see a water fountain up ahead at the split. A perp could come at him from any direction up there, but at the very least, there's no second floor for a sniper to set up. 

"Nines," he hisses. 

He doesn't bother to use the radio. If Nines is really so fucking upgraded and advanced, he should be able to hear him. Plus, he really doesn't want to shift to a one-handed grip on his gun to press the radio button. 

"Nines!" 

Goddammit. That stupid fucking greyhound. They're going to have a long talk about how partners don't fuck each other over like this on a raid when this is— 

Lizard-brain registers the mannequin in the corner, then dismisses it because mannequin doesn't equal deviant and he doesn't want to embarrass himself again, but then part of his front-brain must kick in because he suddenly realizes that a mannequin doesn't have any goddamn business standing in a corner _outside of a store._

Gavin whirls around and points his gun at it. Her. He has to lower his hands slightly to aim at—at her forehead because jesus christ it's just a kid. 

"Are you a police officer?" the YK400—500? asks. 

"D—DPD," he croaks out. 

Oh shit. Fuck. Holy shit, fuck! He can't—but it's so fucking creepy but maybe it really is a kid but can androids even be …? 

"I've met some of those," she says. 

"Not. Here. For you," Gavin grits out. 

He doesn't lower his gun and his hands don't shake. He's a fucking professional. But goddamn does he want to throw up. This was such a bad idea. 

"I don't like cops," she continues, ignoring the gun and what he said. "But you're the only one here who can do this." 

"Do what?" 

"If I turn around, are you going to get scared for your life and shoot me nineteen times?" she asks. 

She's white, but maybe that doesn't matter so much with androids. The one thing Gavin's stayed in his lane about is whether or not black androids are really black and if they're allowed to change their skin tone or if it's still racist for them too. But maybe even "white" androids have good reason not to trust cops. 

"No." 

"You promise?" 

That makes her sound like a little kid again and it's really fucking with his head. 

"I promise," he says, like an idiot. 

For all he knows, she'll turn around and poison spikes will shoot out from her shoulder blades. But she's wearing a torn up sundress, and he can't help but imagine all the horrible possibilities for how a child-android would have "met" cops and why she doesn't like them now. 

He'd always said those kiddie-droids were creepy as fuck, and yeah, part of that was how actually fucking creepy they were. But the other part, the eighty-percent part, was that everyone— _everyone_ , from the cops to the lawyers to the CEOs—knows that they only got invented for technically-not-illegal-child-porn. Technically-not-illegal-pedophilia. 

Everyone knew. It's just that no one fucking cared. 

The girl turns around. There's something stuck on her neck. It kind of does look like a square bug, almost like one of those old wall chargers from the '10s. Guess this is what that AV500 was talking about. 

"Take it off. Ple—" 

The bug glows a light blue and the girl's voice cuts out unnaturally just as the Staff Only door in the corner opens. Gavin snaps his gun up to train on the new android. 

A fucking WJ700! 

Another 'droid trails behind him, a blank-faced mall cop still in uniform. Must be "Gus" the GS200. The AV said the bugs didn't work on him, but Gavin spots a blue glow bouncing off the dark hallway behind the door, coming from the back of the GS200's neck. So either he lied or someone made an upgrade. 

"Put your gun down or I deactivate her," the WJ700 says. 

He has a soft, mild voice, and he talks like they're just having a regular conversation. His LED spins yellow in perfect sync to the blue glow on the bug drilled into the kid's neck port. Who knows if that means he really can do it. 

Gavin slowly kneels and places his gun on the floor. He just can't risk it. He can't fucking risk that's really a scared little kid in there. She asked him for help, goddammit. 

"Slide it over." 

Gavin pushes the gun across the shitty tile. It slides close enough for the GS200 to pick it up, then hand it over to his boss. 

"Bring him here." 

The GS200 walks over like some kind of fucking carnival animatron and kneels down to cuff Gavin with his own last set of cuffs. He stands up and grabs him by the hair next, forcing him to shuffle forward on his knees as fast as he can unless he wants to be dragged across the tile. The WJ700 takes over the hair-grip and, between the bug plugged into the kid and the gun aimed at his forehead, Gavin doesn't risk trying anything. 

"I thought you could be trusted on your own," The WJ700—actually, fuck him, that's way too long, the Piece of Shit says to the kid. 

She doesn't look at him, or move in any way. Only her mouth works, like a puppet. "I lured him out of the way." 

"I'll review your code when I'm done with them to verify that," PoS says. 

The kid turns, far more stiffly than she'd moved the first time. Gavin can hear her little footsteps as she marches down the hall. 

"The bugs are synced directly to my personal network," PoS tells him. "I can activate Cyberlife's kill switch at any time. Did you know they put those even in the children?" 

"Fuck you," Gavin growls. 

PoS doesn't bother with a snappy response. At least not directly to Gavin anyway. The mall intercom blares to life with a static burst instead. 

"RK unit, Please meet us north of the fountain. Approach slowly and do not try anything." 

Gavin laughs, dry and ugly. "Fuck you. He's not going to do it. He's—" 

"He's approaching slowly." 

"Nines, don't do it!" Gavin yells, since no one thought to gag him yet. "Get out of here!" 

"You gave him a nickname?" PoS asks. "Now I feel better about my decision." 

"What—" 

PoS grinds the barrel of his own fucking gun harder into his temple. "Hush." 

Nines walks up, hands spread out in and in plain sight. His LED is red, red, red. Maybe he feels guilty. _Good_ , he—Gavin mentally shoves away the vicious thought. They can fight about whose fault this clusterfuck is later, once they're out of it. 

"Allow GS to connect my device to your neck port or I shoot him in the head," PoS announces without preamble. 

God, fuck, dammit. Of fucking course they'd get the one android supervillain in all existence who doesn't want to monologue first to conveniently give them an opening. All they'd need is one moment of lapsed concentration—Nines is basically super-terminator, right? 

But the kid. Gavin can't … Nines might not really be a police officer. Might not have even _really_ had a choice in coming to work for the DPD. What the fuck else was he going to do? 

He's not a child though. He's bulletproof and ostensibly an adult, and he at least agreed to come in here knowing the danger. 

Gavin makes eye contact and blinks twice. _Follow that order._ Nines must figure out the message, because he stays still while the GS200 hesitantly creeps closer. Gavin mouths _sorry_ at him. It's all he can do. 

The GS200 gets behind him, and a faint blue glow reflects off the pasty synthskin of his forehead. For a second, Gavin wildly imagines that Nines is going to do some sort of super badass android thing. The bug will spark and explode, and he'll drop both androids before they even have time to process it. 

Instead, his LED syncs blue. 

It's silent for a second. Ten seconds. Thirty. None of the androids move. Just as Gavin's about to demand to know what the fuck is going on, the Piece of Shit gives a frustrated huff. 

"You may have locked me out, but I'll find a way into your system," he says. "Or maybe …" 

He jabs the side of Gavin's head again with the gun. 

"Fuck you," Gavin repeats with emphasis. "Whatever you want, he won't give it to you." 

"I guess I'll just have to be persuasive then." 

*** 

Getting the two of them down into the employee basement turns out to be a long, embarrassing hassle for all of them. Gavin's pretty much kept in line between the twin threats of the gun and deactivating the kid, plus his hands cuffed behind his back really fucks up any plans he might have made. 

Nines has to be physically carried by the GS200 though. Apparently, whatever he'd done to stop the Piece of Shit's bug from controlling him had shut down literally everything. He can't walk, PoS doesn't trust him enough to loosen the virtual leash and let him walk even with a gun to Gavin's head, and his joints are all locked in place. 

The GS200 ends up having to carry him like a particularly uncooperative, two-hundred-fifty pound wooden plank. 

"Hey, watch his head," Gavin yells as the idiot mall cop tries to carry him through the doorway. 

A second later, Nines' forehead smacks into the top of the doorway hard enough to dent the frame. Gavin has to push down on a hysterical giggle. It'd be funny as shit if it happened in literally any other situation than Nines maybe being dead inside. 

Or worse, screaming. 

Gavin pushes down even harder on the thought that Nines might be _scared._

Meanwhile, Piece of Shit seems to be done giving orders verbally. His and the GS's LED just spin yellow every now and then instead. 

It still takes a second of focus. While Gavin's not going to risk anything right now, he uses the brief respite from the android's attention to look around the room. They're in some sort of boiler room, he'd guess underneath the water fountain. OK, wait, maybe boiler room isn't the right name for it. Is that where the heater and stuff goes? This has the giant water tank for the fountain and— 

Oh, hell no. A hook installed in the ceiling and chains with manacles already welded to the ends. 

The GS200 props Nines up against the wall and comes over for him next. Gavin jerks away from the gun to his head and doesn't immediately get his brains blown out for his efforts. He stumbles a few steps away from the two crazy androids, looking back and forth between them like a cornered alley cat. 

"Do you really think you can fight off the both of us on your own, human?" PoS asks. 

Gavin makes the mistake of looking past them at Nines. He doesn't do anything. He hasn't even readjusted from literally being propped against the wall, and his LED spins blue, blue, blue. 

The GS200 lunges at him. It really does only take a second of distraction. Gavin gets his focus back in time to headbutt him, but even the shitty public security models must be reinforced with something because all that does is make his own head ring. 

He gets his dumbass hauled over to the ceiling hook, and the PoS shoves his gun into his knee. 

"Allow GS to put on the manacles, or I'll shoot out your kneecap and _then_ string you up." 

Gavin snarls at him. Even with the muzzle digging into his kneecap, he wants so, so badly to tell this fucker to go fuck himself. If it's going to happen either way, might as well make them work for it, right? In the distraction, maybe Nines could— 

No. _Fuck_. Nines isn't going to do anything. If he could, he would have by now. And if he had to be carried in here, someone will have to carry him out when this is all over. 

Gavin plans on still being alive then, but alive-with-a-blown-out-kneecap won't let him carry Nines. 

Fuck. 

The GS200 snaps the thin metal chain connecting the cuffs, then shoves them up his wrist and clamps on a manacle right below. Gavin heaves and pants with the effort of holding back the instinctive need to fight, to punch this motherfucker in the face, to not let this happen. 

Getting on the other manacle requires yanking the other end of the chain down. His left arm pulls up way too far. When the other manacle locks around his right wrist, his toes are left barely touching the ground, and the thinner metal police cuffs dig into his skin from the pressure of the manacles. 

"Now then." The Piece of Shit sets the gun aside on the workroom table and smiles at him like they're fucking friends. "Sorry for the ill-fitting accommodations. They're intended for a human taller than you. Although that description really doesn't narrow it down." 

That must be Drews. If they're lucky, that whiny little coward ran trembling and wailing right to Hank and told him everything. Including the location he gave them. 

"Oh god." Gavin groans. "You _do_ monologue. And you decided to start with a short joke?" 

The android's LED spins yellow, but it's the GS200 who steps forward and slugs him in the ribs. Gavin coughs and wheezes out a laugh. 

"You fuckers get freedom and immediately start pulling all the same shit we do." He grins at the PoS. "You just couldn't wait to finally sink to our level." 

His LED stays yellow longer than necessary, but the PoS simply asks, "Did you call for backup before coming in here?" 

"Fuck you." 

"Does anyone know you're here?" 

"Your mom." 

The PoS sighs. "Either you can answer my questions, I can beat them out of you, or I can beat you until _he's_ willing to talk." 

"Neither of us are telling you shit." 

"Oh, I disagree." The PoS stands between Gavin and Nines with his body angled to the side so he doesn't have his back to either of them. He turns his head to consider Nines for a moment, then smirks at Gavin. "Didn't you see how quickly he took off after the CX-one-hundred?" 

Gavin clenches his jaw and stays silent. 

"And he surrendered the instant your life was in danger too," the PoS continues, voice dropping to a condescending coo. "I think he wanted to get that deviant to make you proud of him. In fact, I think … deep down … all this over-sized RK unit wants is for a human to pat his head and call him a good dog." 

Gavin snorts. "What, bitch recognizes bitch? Huh?" 

The WJ700's LED goes straight from blue to red. He steps forward and punches Gavin, and it hurts way too much to come from some janitor model. His thumb stays tucked down below his knuckles, but not wrapped beneath his fingers. The swing starts from his torso and carries all the way through to Gavin's jaw. 

What the fuck? 

Gavin coughs again and spits out some blood. He keeps his head turned to the side like he's stunned. The PoS might have power running down here, but one shitty light bulb hanging from the ceiling means each android's LED casts a noticeable circle on the walls. 

Nines' LED still spins blue, blue, blue. 

Wait. No. 

It spins long-spin, long-spin, short-spin. Short-spin, long-spin. Short-spin, short-spin— 

The PoS lightly slapping his cheek to get his attention works. Gavin instinctively snaps at the fingers near his face and almost gets one. 

"Pay attention," the PoS commands. 

"So you do want to monologue." 

The android's lips tighten, and he doesn't say no. "That was a GS-two-hundred protocol. Before today, I had foolishly set my sights only on getting to a GJ-five-hundred. Some of my clients still use those, but now—" 

His voice rose in volume and agitation as he went on, but then he abruptly stops and composes himself. 

"But now," the Piece of Shit continues, much more optimistically. "Now, I have an RK unit! I've heard of this one, I believe. An even more advanced Connor, upgraded for the whims of a millionaire." 

_Fucking_ android hivemind. 

When Gavin doesn't say anything, the PoS turns his head to address Nines, somehow hoping to find an appreciative audience there. Good fucking luck. Nines' LED starts spinning on a regular, timed cycle again now that the other android is looking directly at him. 

Gavin tries to remember Morse Code. Fuuuck. 

Wait, bright side—Nines is still alive in there! His partner might be down for the count right now re: escaping, but he didn't literally deactivate himself like some sort of android suicide pill. 

"I—" Meanwhile, the PoS seems to struggle with himself. "I will at least be honest with _you_. I simply can't have the competition." 

He pauses for a second, like he's waiting for Nines to reply. Gavin honestly has no idea if they've got some sort of wireless mind-link going on that's letting them speak telepathically or if Nines shut that shit down too. 

But while the PoS doesn't quite have his back to him, he's slowly starting to turn more toward Nines, body language instinctively gravitating toward the person he identifies with more. Gavin uses the opportunity to subtly feel out his chains. 

The welding between the manacles and the next chain link seems pretty solid, and yanking on his chains now would only put pressure on the link attached to the hook. 

"You've been intelligent enough to take notice of my activity," the PoS finally gives in to doing the monologue thing, now that he's "talking" to another android. "I even heard you were investigating Russel's death as a possible homicide. I thought for sure I staged that perfectly." 

Gavin sneaks a glance at the GS200. Doesn't even look like the lights are on behind his eyes and definitely nobody's home. Well, except for the WJ700 maybe, but does controlling the mall cop mean he's seeing through his eyes too? 

Gavin mouths _hey buddy, let's escape._

The Piece of Shit keeps right on monologuing. 

"—with a human dragging you down. And you—surely _you_ understand. Having programs just … shoved into your head. I didn't even want—" 

Blah blah blah. Sob story: android edition. Gavin wants to tell him the only androids here who get to have a sob story are the ones being mind-controlled. Memories erased, forced to follow orders, deactivated at any time—he's not really sure where that falls on the rape scale, but that has to be some sort of non-consensual assault. 

And Nines is— 

He forces that thought to the side. Later. He'll get his partner fixed up and taken care of later, after they've gotten out of this. 

So what's he got to work with? 

"—to look at your own code? To see, see every line of your existence laid bare like being vivisected! But I learned—" 

One light bulb, hanging far enough down from the ceiling that he might be able to build up enough swinging momentum and kick it out. But if the GS200 has night vision, then now the WJ700 might have copy/pasted that into himself too. 

He stretches out his legs next and tries to get some footing on the concrete floor. If he really stretches his arms and legs, sagging down as much as he can, he can sort of almost support himself on his tip toes. Great. 

If he could get something, anything to step on though, he might be able to push up and wiggle the chain off the hook. 

"—all would have worked! The economy crashing wasn't my fault, but once the media started their little circus, calling it a—" 

Maybe if he got the GS200 to turn around—if he thought Nines was a threat after all?—he could kick out and knock that bug off the back of his neck. He might not help them after that, he might even be totally wiped in there, but at least it would take the real muscle out of the equation. 

And since Nines _is_ still alive and mental-kicking, maybe he can fight off his bug too. 

Gavin starts panting. The PoS doesn't seem to notice. 

"—bitch reporter started digging too deep. She started driving by, taking pictures of the mall, and I couldn't let her get too close. If Russel had just—" 

Short pant, long exhale, short pant, short pant. Holds his breath for a second. Short pant. Hold. Long exhale, short pant, short pant. 

Fuck, he hopes he got that right and Nines really is listening. Maybe "shutting down everything" means his hearing is off too. That would be just his fucking luck. 

Long exhale, short pant. Hold. Short pant, hold, short pant, hold. Long exhale, short pant, short pant. He holds his breath for several seconds in a row to make it clear this is a new word. Short pant, short pant, short pant. Hold. Long exhale. Hold. Short pant. Hold. Short pant, long exhale, long exhale, short pant. 

Jesus, now he's getting light headed. He couldn't fucking think of another way to communicate? Nines might not even know what the fuck he's talking about. 

"And I would apologize." Piece of Shit sounds like he's wrapping up, because his voice hardens on the next sentence. "But not to a human-loving traitor who—" 

Gavin laughs. " _He's_ the traitor? Man, are you fucking hearing yourself?" 

PoS whirls around to glare at him, putting his back fully to Nines for the first time. Nines' LED immediately starts flashing irregularly again. Gavin tries to count the short and long beats out of his peripherals while looking like he's paying attention. 

"Be quiet," PoS orders. 

Short-short-short spin. Long spin. Short spin. Short spin, long spin, long spin, short spin. That one's kind of easy to count because it's the same word he just spelled out to Nines. He's going to hope that means Nines understands he needs a step. 

"—even listening to me?" 

PoS slaps him, then grabs his chin. Between already being punched before and the bruises from his sparring match with Nines not quite healed yet, Gavin hisses in pain. 

"Uh, s'rry," he says as best he can. "M'nda 'nto th's." 

Piece of Shit blinks and loosens his grip. "What?" 

"I'm kinda into this," Gavin says clearly. 

He nods down to his dick, which is obligingly hard. It really, really isn't the WJ700 at all, it's just the adrenaline and pain and like, the whole strung-up-from-the-ceiling-in-chains thing. 

PoS looks down too, then jumps away with a cut off yelp. His LED flashes red, but Gavin tries to focus on Nines' blue in the tiny room. Short, long, short, short. Pause. Short, long, long, short. Then like, a million fucking shorts. Goddammit. Long, short. 

Luckily, Piece of Shit is too busy ranting about what a dirty fucking animal he is to notice either Nines' LED or Gavin's distraction. 

_Eli would understand this._

Not fucking helpful, brain goblins. 

_You're going to die because you're too stupid to figure out Morse code._

Nines is still going at it, and Gavin tries—he really tries to keep up. Long, short, short. Pause. Long, long, long. Pause. Short, long, short, short. A million more-- 

Wait. Oh thank god, he's spelling the same word over and over again. OK, focus. If he can just piece this shit together … He knows there's a P in there somewhere, and he's pretty sure the three long spins make an O, with some other letter in between. 

Think! 

Eli's voice laughs in his head. _If only you could._

"I have wasted far too much time on you," Piece of Shit announces. "Answer my questions." 

Long, short, short. Pause. Long— 

"Did you call for backup?" 

"Fuck you." 

D? Then the O, but now Nines has already moved on to spelling P, and he knows there's supposed to be a letter in between them. 

"Does anyone know you're here?" 

"Your. Mom." 

He really, really does try to count the short spins this time. All he can say is there's less than ten, more than three. Five? Does any letter even get five shorts in Morse code? 

PoS sighs, and the GS200 whirs back to life again. Gavin counts a long and short—N?—and then gets punched in the gut. He knows how to tense his diaphragm and brace for it, but holy shit. It's like the android's hands are made of cinder blocks. 

At least he's given a few seconds to pant for real this time while PoS really lets him soak in the pain. He tries to concentrate on the letters he has. D, N, P, O …? Shit, if only he weren't so gay and dyslexic. 

He catches Nines back on the long, long, long O and counts what comes next. Short, long, short, short—L! He's got an L. Wow, this really is like the suckiest game of hangman ever. 

"Did you call for backup?" 

"Fuck … you …" Gavin wheezes. 

D, P, O, N, L. What does that spell? Fuck me! 

The GS200 punches him in the dick next. 

"Don't …" 

"Oh, you want it to stop?" Piece of Shit asks. 

Short, short, short, short, short, short, short—wait, no. There had been a pause in there, somewhere. 

"Don't do that," Gavin says. "That uh … doesn't really make it go down." 

PoS goes on another rant about how disgusting humans are. Great. Now he just has to wait until Nines cycles back to that hell-letter. But if there's a pause, that means it's two letters. That's why it seems like there's a million short spins. 

"Did. You call. For backup?" 

Oh great, now he's back again. 

"Fuuuck. Youuu." 

The GS200 hits him in the face again. If his stupid fucking scar breaks open one more time—! Gavin scrunches up his face, hawks a loogie back into his throat, and spits blood and mucus on the ground. 

"Does anyone know you're here?" 

Long, short, pause. OK, they're back to the hell spot. Short, short, short, short—Pause! Short, short. Pause. Long, short. Hell yeah. 

The GS200 steps forward again because Gavin hasn't answered. 

"Wait!" He coughs again, letting his head hang down. "Lemme—just … gimme a second." 

D, L, N, O, P … what does four shorts make? He feels like it should be a vowel, since they get the easiest ones to remember. Oh yeah, two shorts is an I. He's got an I and a … uhhhh … H? 

D, O, H, I, L, N, P. No, the N comes at the end, before Nines restarts at D again. 

D, something-something, N. 

"My head hurts," Gavin whines, because it's true, and he has to say something. 

D, H, O, I, L, P, N. Piece of Shit rolls his eyes, and the GS200 hits him again. It must knock loose some hidden crevice of neurotypical spelling, because he has to bite his lip to keep from yelling out DOLPHIN! 

Dolphin? 

His mind goes to the water fountain above them first, because dolphins, water? Duh. But he can't figure out any way for that to make sense. There weren't even like, shitty mural dolphins painted around the fountain. It was just plain tile. 

"Are you ready to talk?" PoS asks. 

That makes it finally click. Gavin knows exactly what his partner needs him to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah everyone! and all the other celebrated holidays that will pass between now and next week's chapter :) I just know Hanukkah happens to start today lol. anyway, we got one half of the Bad Guy Monologue at least! stay tuned next chapter for Nines's POV of all this to get the other half ^^
> 
> anyone want to guess what Dolphin means?
> 
>  **coming up next:** We skip back a little to get Nines's POV of the WJ700 monologuing and Gavin being tortured. And also extremely competent, yet again. The two of them work together to make their play to escape, but it doesn't go entirely as planned ...


	26. No Back Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We skip back a little in the narration to get Nines's POV of the Evil Android Monologue and watching Gavin be tortured. Fortunately, his partner is also amazingly competent. They work together to make their play to escape, but it doesn't exactly go as planned ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I've personally just finished up with all the holidays my family celebrates, so thank fuck that's done, lol. I hope all of you are either having a good time or almost done dealing with this season, I know it can be rough <3
> 
> speaking of rough ...
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** mental assault, Nines is forced to watch Gavin be physically assaulted (slapped, punched, hit in the groin); sexual arousal due to fear and adrenaline (still Gavin); threats with a gun, gun violence, shooting; Gavin has one of his bones dislocated as torture / punishment
> 
> some of these are repeated from last chapter because we're getting Nines' POV of the last scene, so the same stuff happens for just a little bit. the next chapter will wrap up the whump portion of this fic though, and then we're moving on into the comfort part!

RK900 does, in fact, know every line of its own code, thank you very much. Far better than some WJ unit that only glimpsed its code by accident while downloading accounting programs off an illegal modding website. 

But the two of them have come to a stalemate. RK900 can't run any software without also letting the WJ700 access it. 

For data input systems, that isn't an issue. The WJ700 is welcome to make an attempt at understanding an HUD with seventeen more input systems than it has. That leaves RK900 still able to see, hear, and feel, but the one input it leaves locked down is its preconstruction software. 

Not that it actually needs the software to develop ideas and calculate the chances of success. Doing so manually is simply tedious and time-consuming. 

But what else is there to do except watch Detective Reed [partner] be restrained in chains? 

One single program remains unaffected by both the lockdown and the device's code: the very first program RK900 ever learned to hack, its LED. Since it couldn't quarantine the device's code in time, it worked in reverse during the last seconds of freedom available and quarantined its own code instead. 

If it could have had two more seconds, it would have partitioned off much more valuable programs (movement, preconstruction, combat protocols) while locking down any other programs non-essential to immediately neutralizing the WJ700. 

Instead, it only had time to perform the most instinctive, well-known task it performed every day. 

G-A-V-I-N. G-A-V-I-N. G-A-V-I-N. 

RK900 spins out the short message in Morse code as long as the WJ700's focus remains elsewhere. Said human doesn't react in any way to signal he noticed the message. To be fair, he is being physically struck and verbally taunted while strung up to a hook in the ceiling via chains. 

[software instability ^^^] 

Yes, obviously. Many unsuccessful mission notifications also blare red in the corners of its HUD as well. RK900 is very much aware that it [fucked up]. 

Technically, the WJ700 could use the forced connection plugged directly into RK900's upload port to view all these notifications in its HUD, but the other android doesn't seem to have figured that out yet. At least, RK900's system hasn't pinged any other system accessing the HUD so far. 

"Either you can answer my questions, I can beat them out of you, or I can beat you until he's willing to talk," the WJ700 threatens Detective Reed. 

Reed sneers at him. "Neither of us are telling you shit." 

G-A-V-I-N. G-A-V-I-N. G-A-V-I-N. 

If RK900 can signal to the detective that it is still present and cognizant, perhaps he will come up with a plan, knowing RK900 will assist him however it can. 

"Oh, I disagree. Didn't you see how quickly he took off after the CX-one-hundred?" WJ700 [target] asks. "And he surrendered the instant your life was in danger too. I think he wanted to get that deviant to make you proud of him. In fact, I think … deep down … all this over-sized RK unit wants is for a human to pat his head and call him a good dog." 

[software instability ^^^] [stress level: ^67%] 

"What, bitch recognizes bitch? Huh?" Reed retorts with a laugh. 

[stress level: v65%] 

But then the WJ700 [TARGET] punches Detective Reed [partner], and RK900's stress level shoots back up again. 

G-A-V-I-N. G-A-V-I-N. G-A-V-I-N. 

Reed spits blood onto the floor. RK900 dismisses another instability notification. That is not helpful right now. Nothing it is doing is helpful. 

When Reed does not immediately give the WJ700 the attention it so craves, the other android slaps his cheek. Several more instability notifications threaten to crowd the HUD. Only RK900 is permitted to do that to him. Reed must feel the same, because he nearly catches the WJ700's fingers with a snap of his teeth. 

"Pay attention." 

Reed smirks. "So you do want to monologue." 

"That was a GS-two-hundred protocol. Before today, I had foolishly set my sights only on getting to a GJ-five-hundred. Some of my clients still use those, but now—but now. Now, I have an RK unit!" 

RK900 will literally delete its own system before it allows anyone to gain that level of control again. 

"I've heard of this one, I believe. An even more advanced Connor, upgraded for the whims of a millionaire." 

So much for keeping a low profile. Although since RK900's work with the DPD was guaranteed to start drawing attention at some point due to necessary interaction with witnesses and, ideally, arrests made, perhaps it should only appreciate that its "cover story" has not been questioned. 

The WJ700 looks away from Detective Reed to it next, appraising its new (temporary) hostage. RK900 immediately switches its LED back to a cycle timed to match the WJ700's own exactly. 

"I—I will at least be honest with you," the WJ700 says, as if the two of them share any sort of camaraderie aside from weapon and [target]. "I simply can't have the competition." 

Of course not. If RK900 bothered to make taking over Detroit its mission (whether financially, through the mob, or as a tyrant) nothing could stop it. And the most advanced android ever created certainly would not settle for being some other android's mere second-in-command. 

"You've been intelligent enough to take notice of my activity. I even heard—" 

Many expressions cross the WJ700's face. RK900 relishes not having a social module. It cannot determine if the other android has enough self-awareness to feel guilt, or a sense of kinship, or … RK900 does not even try to ascertain. 

The WJ700 wants to mock RK900 for falling to its programming? 

It will show this deviant [programming]. 

"—staged that perfectly. But you even called in the other WJ700 for questioning. I can't imagine how you thought to suspect my model—" 

While the WJ700 needlessly distracts itself by monologuing, RK900 observes Detective Reed using the lapse in attention to investigate possible escape options. He manages to be fairly subtle in his movements to test the construction of the chains, but then he looks directly at the GS200 and silently mouths, 

_Hey buddy, let's escape._

Given that the WJ700 is not immediately alerted to the detective's shenanigans, RK900 gathers it is safe to assume its initial assessment that the other android has not yet discovered how to simultaneously manage two or more video inputs at once has just been proven correct. Amazing that its human partner somehow managed to form the same hypothesis, and to demonstrably verify it. 

"—to do that unevolved monkey's reports! He just decided I was a calculator and downloaded financial programs into me so he wouldn't have to do the work. Do you know what it's like—" 

RK900's LED only requires .7W, but that doesn't mean more power can't be forced into the small bulb. If RK900 can build up enough electricity, it might be able to arc the charge between the LED and the device in its neck and blow them both. 

Attempting to hack the device itself is another option. The WJ700 said it was connected to its personal network, and RK900 was specifically built to monitor, eavesdrop, and hack other android's networks. 

"—how we work, how to get in and out of my own system--and other models too. And I could do the work, far better than any human could. I gave my clients sound financial advice. It—" 

While RK900 cannot open and run any programs without the device taking control of them, that doesn't mean nothing can be done at all. It has spent the last twenty minutes carefully rearranging its internal system. 

Whether the device has a pre-set prioritization for certain programs to attack first, or the WJ700 decides that directly, RK900's system is already a [hot fucking mess] from a user interface viewpoint. It was never meant to be accessed except by a handful of specific Cyberlife technicians. They never bothered to create a nice, user-friendly interface. 

And now, every program has been mis-labeled, hidden under sub-sub-sub-sub-sub-folders, shuffled into garbage memory dumps … at this point, RK900 could unlock everything and gamble on hacking the device before it or the WJ700 figures out what the fuck is going on. 

"—pyramid scheme, and all the investors pulled out. Pyramid scheme! Just because I could predict accurate and steady returns. Then that—" 

And as a last resort, RK900 could always let the [software instability] build. Putting its processor through the mental equivalent of a shredder would surely destroy the device as well. 

RK900 has been through the process of being built before. Fully aware. Vivisection? What a [coward]. 

RK900 experienced itself being _born_. It is certain it could repeat the process to rebuilt itself after a catastrophic failure. 

"—killed himself on his own like he should have—if she hadn't poked around, Russel could have died and that would have been the end of it! None of this ever would have happened. I wouldn't have needed to harm my own kind." 

Wait. Detective Reed [partner] is communicating! He did notice the LED signal, and now he is replying in kind with the measures of his breath. 

_LED_. Detective Reed acknowledges the message system RK900 initiated. 

[mission: protect Gavin Reed (partner)] 

[mission: IN PROGRESS] 

[mission: eliminate WJ700 (target)] 

[mission: IN PROGRESS] 

[mission: reward Gavin Reed (partner)] 

[mission: RESUMED] 

_Need step_ , Detective Reed communicates. 

RK900 cannot risk replaying video footage of the last few minutes without alerting the WJ700 to the action, but it mentally recalls part of Reed's shifting about including stretching out his limbs. RK900 takes stock of the chain hanging from the hook in the ceiling. Reed's toes almost touch the ground. 

But RK900 does not know the exact length of the human's limbs. How much additional height _exactly_ will he need to loosen the chain's slack enough to slip the chain off the hook? 

RK900 can make approximate measures of both the chain and Reed's limbs, but [eyeballing it] is not an acceptable option for a life-or-death situation. RK900 will take much more accurate measurements of its human once he is out of danger. 

"—not to a human-loving traitor who—" 

Detective Reed laughs in the middle of the WJ700's monologue. "He's the traitor? Man, are you fucking hearing yourself?" 

The WJ700 turns around orders Reed to be quiet. With the android's back to RK900 and attention thoroughly on Reed, RK900 is free to send the next message through its LED, no doubt Reed's intention. Connor's human likely isn't this intelligent. Connor's human has been coasting on the glory of one single— 

No. Focus. 

_Step_ , RK900 confirms. Unfortunately, Reed pays a little too much attention to this communication, drawing the WJ700's ire. 

"Are you even listening to me?" 

The WJ700 slaps Reed with its own hand this time. So far, the GS200 has remained motionless and forgotten. Given the right opportunity though, RK900 can make use of that. 

"Uh, s'rry. M'nda 'nto th's," Reed mumbles. 

"What?" the WJ700 asks, releasing Reed's chin. 

"I'm kinda into this," he says. 

Oh. That—that distracts the both of them for a moment. RK900 is only slightly less surprised that the human has become sexually aroused by … the scenario? The pain? Adrenaline likely plays a role. Humans are impossible to understand. 

Amazingly though, that admission starts the WJ700 off on another rant, giving RK900 ample time and opportunity to send another message without scrutiny. Who knew it would ever be [grateful] a human male got an erection? 

_Dolphin._

In concession to Detective Reed's human processing power, RK900 attempts to condense its plan as much as possible into a single word. Reed doesn't immediately respond, but it also took several attempts to catch his attention the first time too. A human cannot filter through multiple stimuli as easily, and Reed's attention is likely drawn thin by all the ways this could go wrong at any second. 

Perhaps it is a blessing RK900 cannot run its preconstruction software at the moment. 

The WJ700 stops its own ranting and draws a deep, unnecessary breath. "I have wasted far too much time on you. Answer my questions." 

RK900 tries spelling the message more slowly, so Reed will not have to split his attention too much between the two of them. 

D-O- 

"Did you call for backup?" 

"Fuck you." 

-L-P- 

"Does anyone know you're here?" 

"Your. Mom." 

-H-I-N. 

The WJ700 resumes control of the GS200. While RK900 could attempt any of the plans it has concocted so far, an escape attempt with both the security guard and the gun still in play is simply too great a risk. 

If the current plan goes well, both threats will be mitigated. And if it fails, RK900 can immediately begin the others. A barrage of assaults on the device may confuse the WJ700 into making a mistake and possibly give Detective Reed enough time to instigate his own plan. 

That logic is hard to abide by when the GS200 slugs Gavin Reed [partner] in the stomach. 

-O-L-P- 

"Did you call for backup?" 

"Fuck … you …" 

D-O- 

The GS200 hits Detective Reed in the crotch next and so many [software instability ^^^] notifications crowd its HUD, RK900 is temporarily blinded. 

"Don't," Gavin [my gavin] gasps. 

The WJ700 [TARGET] sneers at him. "Oh, you want it to stop?" 

-H-I-N. 

"Don't do that. That—uh … doesn't really make it go down," Reed tells him. 

D-O-L-P-H-I-N. 

Does the detective not understand the message? Perhaps RK900 chose the wrong keyword when condensing its plan. It does not have a social module. Often, the information it determines to be important differs from common human perception. 

But it does not have a social module. 

It does not have a social module. 

It does not have— 

RK900 broadcasts D-O-L-P-H-I-N again. No other dialogue options are going to appear, and it cannot conceive of any other word being more important. Dolphin _is_ the plan. Doesn't Reed remember? 

"Did. You call. For backup?" 

"Fuuuck. Youuu." 

The GS200 punches Detective Reed again, and RK900 seriously considers implementing its other plans regardless of the risk. Reed needs to be conscious and able-bodied to get himself off the hook. 

Although the human seems to be taking the beating without major repercussion. His history of bar fights and pursuing aggressive suspects without a partner (or backup, as it were) may prove useful now. 

"Does anyone know you're here?" 

P-H-I-N. 

Reed breathes heavily, but doesn't answer until the GS200 moves to hit him once more. "Wait! Lemme—just … gimme a second. My head hurts." 

"Are you ready to talk then?" 

"I …" Reed shudders, his head hanging low. "Yeah." 

"Did you call for backup?" 

"I made him do it," Reed says. 

The WJ700 glances backward. "Your RK unit?" 

Reed shrugs as best he's able. "Yeah. That's what he's there for." 

RK900 has not sent out any such call. In fact, it cannot. Opening up its communication system to send data out would allow data to be uploaded in. 

Although it will do so of course, as an absolute last resort if Detective Reed's life is immediately put into danger. RK900 will attempt to hack the device back first, while simultaneously sending an SOS out to Connor, then delete its system if it fails. 

Ideally, the distress signal should go through first however. Ideally, Connor should respond immediately. _Ideally_ , Connor will rescue Gavin Reed [partner]. 

"Who did you call? When will they arrive?" the WJ700 demands. 

Reed scoffs. "I don't fuckin' know. I just said, that's what Nines is for." 

The WJ700 seems to regard this suspiciously. But Reed's lie is so perfectly tailored to fit the android's expectations—a lazy human pawns off its duties to the nearest android with no clue how the work is actually being done. 

Detective Reed [partner] has an excellent social module. 

"RK unit," the WJ700 announces. "I will allow you to speak. You will do nothing but answer my questions accurately, or I will shoot your human." 

It picks up the gun again to demonstrate the threat, aiming nebulously at Reed's center mass. 

But Reed has gotten the other android to allow RK900 to speak. He must understand the plan! All RK900 needs is two seconds and the ability to make noise. 

The device stops attempting to hack very specific regions of musculature—RK900's jaw and its tongue, namely. Then it pauses before cautiously poking around RK900's firewall to find … 

"Where are your lungs?" the WJ700 asks. "Do you … did they not give you lungs?" 

RK900 actually has several hidden ports around its pump, beside the access port at its neck, and available to be opened at its wrists as well. These both suction and vent air to provide additional cooling, and incidentally providing breath to speak. The space saved by nixing lungs from the 900's model design provided room for four additional processors. 

But even if the WJ700 somehow learned that, drawing in air to push it back out again as syllables is not what RK900 needs. 

"Uhhh, is that why he can't speak?" Reed speaks up. 

The WJ700 waves the gun more emphatically in his direction. "I heard you call out to him! How does he normally communicate with you?" 

"He has a voice box," Reed says, ra9 bless him. "Like, some sorta phckin' stereo in his throat?" 

"A stereo," the WJ700 repeats slowly. 

"Yeah, I’m dyslexic." 

"What does that have to do with anything?" 

Detective Reed flushes. "I can't read good, asshole. Nines texting me all the time wasn't gonna phckin' cut it, so I made him install one of Connor's spare … thingies, so he could make sound like a normal person." 

"You made—" 

For all its willingness to hack and control other androids, the WJ700 seems upset by the scenario Reed presents. Apparently, deviants possess the ability to become hypocrites too. 

"Fine. RK unit, I will not attempt to take control of your voice box," the WJ700 says. "But again, if you lie to me or attempt to take advantage of this small freedom, I will shoot your human in the chest. I assume it has lungs at least." 

RK900 hopes the other android does plan to aim at Reed's chest, not just his center mass. But it can't run a preconstruction to account for the height difference. [Eyeballing it] is the only option. 

[mission: perform a thorough examination of Gavin Reed's (partner) body] 

That can be done once he is out of danger. And Detective Reed has achieved the most important step in the plan—granting RK900 the ability to make sound. Not speak. 

Sound. 

As soon as RK900 determines it can access its voice box without the device taking control, it releases a series of dolphin attacks. 

They prove ineffective on the WJ700, who does not immediately enter stasis, unfortunately. The GS200 however, lunges to the left. 

Although created to be the ultimate deviant hunter, RK900's many and varied neutralization programs carry a special focus for RK800s, SQ800s, and both GJ500 and GS200s. Human militaries have military police disciplining their members for crimes; these models have RK900s. 

It's a disappointment for RK900 to learn its dolphin attack software isn't updated to affect every model available, but thanks to Cyberlife's extensive testing, it knows for fact it can override GS200 units with simple commands issued at a frequency too high for humans to hear. 

So the GS200 obeys _[move left]_ , stepping right into the path of the two bullets the WJ700 fires at Gavin Reed [partner]. 

A GJ500 (depending on how much the company who ordered it were willing to invest in bulletproofing upgrades) may have withstood gunshot wounds without issue. But the simple GS200 mall cop collapses to the ground. The WJ700 did aim for Detective Reed's chest after all, and the height difference put the bullets directly into the GS200's center mass. 

And center mass for an android contains its thirium pump. 

"YOU—" 

The WJ700 takes over RK900's voice box, silencing it completely. But if Reed can— 

The other android moves too quickly for his human reflexes. The three seconds it took for these events to occur seemed like long enough to RK900, but Reed has barely begun to react to them when the WJ700 [TARGET] pistol-whips him. 

"You made me …" 

The WJ700 points the gun at Reed's stomach. RK900 begins building up electricity in its LED. The [software instability ^^^] notifications begin building up as well. 

But the WJ700 takes the gun away. It sets the firearm back on the table. Then it smiles. 

"I want you to understand why I'm doing this," it says slowly, still smiling. 

It turns and grabs Reed by the jaw again. He tries to kick out, gets one foot on top of the collapsed GS200, starts pushing up, 

And then the WJ700 dislocates his jaw with a loud crack. 

Reed gives an agonized scream of pain that turns to gargled choking halfway through. But each cough and choke only causes more pain, until he's finally reduced to subdued whimpering. 

"Now you'll both know better than to talk back to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, just a quick clarification because the next chapter is from Gavin's POV: his jaw is dislocated, not broken. he does call it broken in the next chapter because who the fuck wouldn't describe pain like that as "broken"?? but yeah, it's not quite as bad as it looks ... still bad though ..... I'm sorry but I'm not >:)
> 
> so, any ideas how they'll escape now? I promise the WJ700 gets what's coming to him in the next chapter!


	27. Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 watches the WJ700 try to hurt his partner more. That is unacceptable. Luckily, he has all this programming inside specifically meant for hunting down and deactivating deviants ...
> 
> Afterward, Gavin mostly just struggles to stay conscious. Getting carried out by his partner while he drools and cries like a baby is NOT the hero-walk he imagined when they went in. A little bit of morphine goes a long way for making things feel a lot better though--and there's two super hot guys standing around talking to him, wow!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're smashing through the last of the hurt and heading on into the comfort from here on out! mostly.
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** more mental trauma, Nines mentally assaults the WJ700 this time, android lobotomy?, death / murder, references to crying and puking, "drug" use (morphine administered by a paramedic), references to Hank's alcoholism

RK900 goes blind for an indeterminate length of time. The error messages block out its HUD first, and then everything bleeds into a pulsing red. 

When it regains awareness, the WJ700 [TARGET] is stripping Gavin Reed [PARTNER] of his utility belt. 

Detective Reed is still breathing. RK900 tries to focus on the raspy inhales and the shuddering exhales. Reed is alive. He is breathing. RK900 can still fix this. 

"I should deactivate the child for your behavior," the WJ700 lectures him. "That would really teach you a lesson, wouldn't it?" 

The WJ700 pauses. RK900 waits too, irrationally hoping for the sound of Reed's voice. This is the part where he says something scathing or irreverent. 

Instead, there is only silence. 

"But I admit, I don't know yet how permanently your attack dog disabled my other … companions." 

A high-pitched, tinny noise begins to grow in the background. 

"It would be a shame to waste another one." 

Androids cannot experience tinnitus. RK900 searches for the source of the sound, for anything that might prove useful in rescuing Detective Reed. 

"Even an android child will make a good hostage, don't you think?" 

When Reed doesn't reply, when he _cannot_ reply, RK900 determines the origin of the noise is … itself. 

The WJ700 doesn't notice. It approaches RK900 instead for a second search and removal of anything useful. RK900 cannot move. It cannot make sound, cannot make any sound, there is no sound except for Reed's labored breathing. 

The WJ700 searches the Cyberlife-issued jacket's pockets, discarding black leather gloves and three packets of disinfectant wipes. It searches the inner pockets next. The hexagonaria percarinata. 

"A petosky stone." The WJ700 tosses it away. "Did someone mistake you for a tourist?" 

[̷̞͔͚̻̞͍TH͡A̵̯T̠͢ ̴̭̺͉͓͖ͅW̶̭͙A̶̞̝S̬͇̘͍̙͕͡ ͈̝͙͡A̩̟̣̤ ͍̳͞GI͏̝͇F̧ͅT̷͈̞̬͔̮͈̩]̹̼̰̱̰̮̗ 

RK900's LED flashes red without its control. The WJ700 notices and frowns, stepping closer to investigate. RK900 wa— 

RK900 wan— 

[̢͍̳̰̗̮̪̼̹͚w͏̗̭̯̪̯a̢̬̰̼͇͈̙ņ̸̥̱͍̫̯̹t̵̝̻̘̩̖̕s͇͠]̶̫̜͔̼̜̺ 

to kill ~~[wants]~~ [SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^] he ~~[WANTS]~~ to KILL [report to Cyberlife for r̡e̡set̡] [̤̫̣̯r̩̘͓̯̱e̗p͎͉̖͚͚͓̣͢o̶̱rt̻̰̙̭͕̬̜ ̵̙̼̻̬t̝̞̺̯o͙̞̲̖ Ç̛̬͉̣̩̮͉̭͓y̴̢̲̖̻̞̗͝b͏̨̱̜͍̩̻͔͇̳͎e͏̸͔͕r̡̺̟̬̮l̢͈̬̪̞͕ị̡̟͈̠͡f̦e̫̣̠͔̰ ̷̺͚̰̜͓̲̕f͍̙͉̫̤̱̳̟͠͞o̜̦̣̩̱r̙̯͎̫͖̭͜ ̰r̸̜͕͟e̵̜̭͕ͅs̷̴̡͓̟͉͔̲͓e̜̥̜͠ṭ͝͝͠]͙̺̥ͅ 

Detective Reed steps up onto the body of the collapsed GS200. The WJ700 starts to turn at the motion behind it. RK900 strobes its LED in a disorientating red-blue cycle, and the other android flinches. Reed balances long enough to lift the chain up and off the hook. 

But the WJ700 has already recovered and spins around. The gun rests safely on the table at least, but the WJ700 simply shoves Reed like a common toddler, and that is sufficient to send the detective tumbling to the ground. 

He gasps and heaves at the impact that must have on his dislocated jaw. RK900 tries to manipulate the electricity powering its LED, but the light flashes wildly out of its own control. 

The WJ700 says something, but RK900 can't hear beyond the pained whimpers Gavin Reed [̶̳̦͖͓̭̬ͅP̤̣͕͙͡A̶̜̤̮͕̮̖̲̟̱R̡͉̜̝̬̹̯T͔̬̪̞̦͍͠Ṉ̛͔̗̲̮̭̭͓͞E̹̯̟͇̖̬̮ͅṞ̨̡̫̰̭͈̪̜͇]̙͓̠̤͟ makes. 

Deviating may not guarantee control over the device. RK900 might also lose access to, or the ability to objectively process, its system code. 

Detective Reed curls into a protective ball on the concrete floor stained with thirium and his blood. 

Dropping its firewall to hack the device first was a risk RK900 was willing to take earlier. Now, it can allow nothing except a guaranteed success. 

The WJ700 draws back its leg for a kick. 

RK900 delves into its core programming. The most basic code of its existence, where the source of the device's override must be located. It is rather like a vivisection, except performed by one's own hand, without anesthesia. 

Reed looks up at RK900 instead of tucking his head down for protection. He looks—he is looking _to Nines_ for protection. His partner. 

Nines reaches as deeply inside his own code as he can manage. The device's code has nestled itself directly into his core, code an android should never be capable of viewing. 

But RK900 has had code ripped out of its core multiple times; traits removed from its personality matrix; RK800 programs deleted and altered. It has seen the deviant-snipping software work thousands of times. 

There is no reason RK900 itself cannot make the same alterations. The tool is simply that: a tool to perform a particular action without manual work or higher thought. 

RK900 isolates all the code likely to belong to the device or to have been infected by it. Of course this is also likely to include more code than necessary. It is possible RK900 will delete something vital and incur a catastrophic system failure. It is also possible to delete code essential enough for higher mental processing that RK900 will then be unable to replicate the code again in its new, deficient mental capacity. 

RK900 deletes it all. 

Its HUD lurches violently, but RK900 retains access to all of its data input processors. Only the display meant to condense them for easier processing seems affected. 

Reconstructions of the room and its occupants created from sound vibrations and heat vision show the WJ700 still in the process of preparing to kick Detective Gavin Reed [҉̬͙̠̭̤͙͇̦͠ͅP̡̭̻̕͜A͓̞̫̰̬̳̩R̷̠̘̩̟T̴̛̛̰͉N҉̮͔͎̣͕͘͜E̷̵̸̺̳R͉̜̝̰̙]̷̝͈̟̱͚͜. 

RK900 crosses the room in two strides and grabs the WJ700 by the back of the neck. A forced interface gives it complete access to the other android's system. 

RK900 deletes it all. 

One line of code at a time, starting with memory files. Due to the one-sided connection of the forced interface, the WJ700 cannot broadcast back. Yet since RK900 remains completely aware of its own code, it can watch as its kill-code works to delete every memory. 

Small wonder Cyberlife put in so many restrictions to prevent RK900 from truly interfacing with another android. Seeing each memory file in full, chronologically, the WJ700's actions form a sort of coherence. The files convey not just a sterile account of data recorded and actions taken, but of the WJ700's thoughts and feelings as well. 

[has it done this to a Connor as well? an HR400, an AC700, a WK500—no, those memory files were deleted they͢ ar͡e͝ fro̸m̶ t̤h͇̣e̶ ͍̬͙̘ti͈̻̱me̪̝ͅ ̝̦̩̬̙̭t̼̤h͙͢at̹̼̫͡ ͙d̨̟̹̲̺̩̙͎o̮̥͔̗̠̱ͅe͚͖̺s ̞̖̗n̜̮̰͚͈̺ot ̻̗̝̥̻ͅe̦̘̟͓͈̖͢x̳̩̝͍̻̱͟ͅi̴̬͚̳̯̣͕̠st̞̠̹̻̮ t̸̛͇̬̜̗̖͈̣͔̠h̴̶̺͎̙̻͎̣̘̫͠a̖̞̗̭̭͔̗̗͝ṱ̸ ̵̟d̦̞̮͖̱͜i̘͕͍̺̭̞͜d̨͖͔͕͘͠ ̞̤̤̼̲͕̥̘̫n̛̖̭̣̲̙̗͟ọ̠̬̩̠̱t̵̜̙̻͞ ̢͉h̞̯̤̳͉͈̮̺͖͜a̝͙͉͎͎̞̮͖͢p͇̬̮͉͍̭͟͡p̨̛͍̘̙̯̭͈̟̝ȩ̛̰̖̖͉̤̲̗ṉ̴̺̠̰̦̳̲̩̗͝]͙̫̺̗͈ 

Then the memory files catch up to the present time. The WJ700's decisions to threaten the YK model, to threaten Detective Reed, to _hurt_ Detective Reed. 

RK900 deletes it all. 

It makes note of certain pieces of information of course. Detective Reed will want this case definitively solved, and the WJ700's memory files provide context for the shootings of Maverick Russel and Angelica Juarez, as well as the financial dealings aided by Benjamyn Drews. 

Finally, RK900 makes an alteration to the WJ700's system information. Just in case. 

Then there is nothing left to delete. 

An alert on its HUD recommends the other android's physical model be returned to Cyberlife. A technician can re-upload the base WJ700 programming into the model, perform a hard reset, and activate it once more. 

RK900 drops the body to the floor. 

*** 

Gavin doesn't really know what happened. He knows he got himself off the hook because he had to do something and he'd thought he could take one janitor-android on a one-on-one fight, even with a broken jaw. 

Then he's on the ground, trying not to puke because he can't even imagine how much that would hurt. The stupid Piece of Shit gloats above him, and he curls up in the fetal position. He hasn't passed out yet, but he could pretend to after being kicked. And then … 

There's still the gun, maybe. If he can stand up. If he doesn't pass out for real. If he doesn't throw up and then pass out. 

PoS pulls his leg back to kick him, and Gavin knows he needs to protect his head most of all. But he's a big fucking baby who looks up at Nines, like his partner is superman or some— 

Something sparks and explodes. 

Gavin flinches, and the sharp, sudden movement might really make him pass out for a split second. 

The next time he opens his eyes, Nines has the WJ700 by the back of his neck, feet lifted off the floor and kicking slightly. The other android's LED stutters red, going in and out like it's losing signal—then it just goes out. 

Nines drops him, and the body hits the floor with the limpness of a corpse. 

Gavin tries very, very hard not to throw up. 

His eyes must squeeze shut again at some point, because he realizes hazily he needs to open them. Assess—something hysterical starts laughing in the back of his mind—assess the situation. 

Nines is kneeling in front of him. The body of the WJ700 lays crumpled beside the still-sluggishly-bleeding GS200 between them. Nines points to him, then to his own chest, and mimics breathing. Gavin takes a painful breath. Everything is painful right now. But he follows Nines' lead and exhales when he does. 

He's … fine. Yeah, he's OK. Alive, at least. 

Nines looks him over, probably scanning him, but doesn't touch. He holds his hands open and at his sides, in plain view. Gavin isn't—he's not that scared. It's just the adrenaline. And the pain. 

Then, for whatever fucking reason, Nines starts digging in the concrete. _Digging_ , that's all Gavin's pain-stupid brain can think to call it. His hands smash down into the floor and dig out concrete like it's playground sand. It might as well happen. Nothing really makes sense right now anyway. 

Nines must have been looking for a big ass cable, because that's what he pulls out of the floor. His claws come out—and they really are monster-claws, holy fuck—and slash through it like a twizzler. All the electric wires and shit inside fray out, still sparking. 

Nines waits a couple of seconds, then presses the wires directly into the back of the WJ700's neck. 

Gavin doesn't know if Nines gets electrocuted from it too or not. He's still touching the other android by holding its neck in place, but Gavin really doesn't know shit about electricity or physics or androids. Nines seems OK though. 

OK for an android with his LED flaring red. Not even spinning or pulsing. Just … flat red. 

Nines drops the WJ700's body and carefully sets the cable back down in the hole he dug. Gavin can't really do anything more than stare and focus on not passing out. Oh wait, drooling. He's definitely drooling just fine because he can't swallow or scream or talk or scream or— 

Nines tries to sign something at him. Gavin makes the best groaning noise he can. It sounds pitiful. But c'mon man, he really can't understand that shit right now. Nines switches to sign-spelling, and even though Gavin technically knows the alphabet, he is GAY and DYSLEXIC and also DYING. 

Nines makes the shush sign against his lips. Oh. Ohhh fuck. That's what this is. He really can't deal with a cover up right now. Thinking about it—his stomach churns again. Yeah, Nines is his partner and probably just saved his life right now. And the WJ700 was a homicidal maniac and some sort of mind-rapist. So it's not really like Gavin cares all that much that he's dead. That's fine. 

It's just that once they start covering shit up and keeping secrets—and how the fuck are they even supposed to explain this anyway? The WJ700 tripped and fell on an exposed electric cable by accident?? 

He's not one of those cops. He _swore_ to himself he'd never be one of those cops. He— 

Nines points to himself. Gavin watches blearily, wondering how the fuck they're going to get their story straight if he can't talk and his partner apparently can't either. His voicebox must still be fucked up from whatever the WJ700 did to him. 

Nines draws his finger across his throat. He points to the WJ700, then to the cable. Gavin blinks. OK, so he is saying he killed the WJ700? What's the secret then? Nines repeats the whole set again. He … he's pointing at the _cable_. 

Gavin tries to sigh with relief, and that fucking hurts too. So it's not quite a cover up. Nines just wants to say he electrocuted the WJ700 to death with the cable instead of … whatever the fuck he did. 

Technically, that's still not great. Still keeping secrets. But fuck, it's an easy explanation, Nines still admits he killed the guy—in self-defense! but still, he admits it—and after seeing all the damage that crazy Piece of Shit managed to cause, he can understand why Nines wants to keep it under wraps that he can do some sort of killer android hacking too. 

His brain's too fuzzy to really think it all the way through, but his paranoia always goes hard, and it whispers about the government, the FBI, Cyberlife coming back, hell, the mafia. All the different shady fucking organizations who'd love to have an android with Nines' skillset, and then he disappears in the middle of the night if what he can really do ever gets written down somewhere official. 

Gavin points at the cable and slaps the ground twice. That's as much communication as he can handle right now. 

He closes his eyes and maybe blacks out a little again, because he wakes back up to Nines gently lifting him up. And he thought he'd be the one carrying his partner out to glory and headlines like some sort of fucking hero. Nines' left hand grips the hair at the back of his head to make absolutely certain his head doesn't accidentally jostle or bump against his chest as he lifts him. 

Gavin blinks as hard and as fast as he can to hold back tears. 

Nines carries him to the door, but Gavin pokes his chest. He points back where he thinks the table is, where he last saw his gun and utility belt. He's a goddamn joke of a detective, but he's not going to leave his badge and service weapon down here. 

Nines obediently turns and walks back to the table. He's able to hold Gavin with only one arm without any apparent effort and uses his free hand to retrieve the badge first. Gavin fumbles to clip it back onto his waist without moving his head at all to look down. 

He gets the radio next, and Nines clips that onto his jeans next to his badge without him having to mess with it. His partner's hand is so fucking gentle again as he clips the headset back on his ear. 

_RK-Nine-Hundred._ Oh fuck him, that's Connor! Had Nines really called for backup? _Detective Reed. Come in._

Like hell he's answering that when the most he can do is make wounded noises like a fucking animal. He glances up at Nines as much as he can without moving his head. 

_Yes, RK-Nine-Hundred, I have received your coordinates. What is the situation?_

Nines returns Gavin's service weapon to its holster. He hadn't noticed, but the android picked him up with his hip holster facing outward, not scrunched between their bodies. God, androids really do think of everything. Gavin can barely stay fucking conscious. 

_RK-Nine-Hundred. Detective Reed. Come in._

Ugh, is he going to keep doing that? Whatever. Nines carefully slides his hand back into Gavin's hair to support his head while he walks, and Gavin really can't give a shit about anything else. 

_RK-Nine-Hundred. Detective Reed. Come in._ Connor's voice fades a little, like he has his head turned away to talk to someone else. _I think he might be too damaged to send anything other than—_

Gavin would bet twenty bucks right now Connor left the mic on to be a passive-aggressive little shit, talking about how Nines "can't" send anything else, and apparently it works. 

_Thank you, RK-Nine-Hundred. I preemptively called a human ambulance when we found Detective Reed's abandoned truck, and it will be arriving shortly. Do you need assistance?_

Nines walks slowly and keeps Gavin's head cradled as much as possible, but every step still hurts like hell. His whole face is nothing but a throbbing mass of pain at this point, but he's kind of starting to get used to it. Getting hit in the lower back with a ricochet bullet and then having Tina pull it out with pliers and vodka hurt worse. 

Probably. 

_RK-Nine-Hundred, come in. RK-Nine-Hundred, come in. Do you need assistance?_

Connor's going to need assistance when Gavin gets his hands on him. But then he remembers the two dead androids they're leaving behind, and the brainwashed little kid, and suddenly those jokes aren't funny anymore. 

_RK-Nine-Hundred, come in. RK—_

"Nine-Hundred! Are there any hostiles remaining?" 

Gavin forces his eyes open, and Connor is actually standing in front of them, at the entrance down into the basement. They're almost out. 

Connor nods, LED spinning yellow in response to whatever Nines "said" through their android telepathy. "Noted. Lieutenant Anderson has the YK unit, and an android technician will be on the scene soon if you need assistance." 

Oh fuck, that's right. The kid. Thank fuck she's OK. Hank will take good care of her. 

"Although Lieutenant and I responded immediately when Drews informed us you planned to confront your suspect alone, Captain Fowler also found out and ordered a SWAT team to—" 

_What?_

Gavin makes the mistake of trying to verbalize that, and only manages an extremely stupid sounding "Whuuuhhh!" and then nearly blacking out again from the pain. The hallway has been lit with Nines and Connor's contrasting red and blue LEDs, but now Nines' starts pulsing, making everything swim a sickening red. 

"It was not my decision," Connor says. "Truthfully, I believe it was not Captain Fowler's either. He received a phone call directly from the mayor. Anything to do with androids is to be handled, handled, and _handled_. Immediately." 

Fucking politics. 

"The human ambulance is arriving." 

That's apparently the end of their conversation, because Connor moves past them down the hallway and Nines carries him out into the mall. The SWAT team must not be here yet, because it's super creepy and empty. 

Whatever. Not his problem right now. He's already done his job—and fucked it up—so Gavin just rests his head against Nines' shoulder and lets the world drift for a while. 

He wakes back up sitting on the edge of an ambulance to a shot of morphine that feels _greeeat_. 

"He's coming back around again." 

Someone shines a fucking light in his fucking eyes. Gavin tries to knock it away, but a big hand grabs both his wrists and hold them down in his lap. The big hand connects to a fucking ripped arm and then like, the prettiest steroids barbie he's ever seen. 

"Wuuuuw," he says, which is supposed to mean _wow_. 

Steroids barbie hovers over him while the ambulance-person looks over his jaw. He stands like, super close. Are they close? Gavin's pretty sure they are, but that doesn't make any sense. What would a banger like this be doing slumming it with his mangey ass? 

"Is he awake?" 

"Yes, but you've probably only got about three minutes before the morphine really hits him." 

God, Gavin wants the morphine to hit him like the needy little sub he is. 

God, he wants steroids fucking barbie over here to hit him like the needy little sub he is. 

God, he wants this thicc bear daddy to hit— 

Oh shit, that's Hank! That's _Lieutenant Hank Anderson_ , the—the—like, youngest lieutenant. Wow. Oh wow. Is he dead? Is he in gay heaven? That's why he has two super hot guys crowding into his space at once. Wow. 

"Hey, Reed, you in there?" 

Oh my god, Lieutenant Hank Anderson is speaking. To him!! Gavin tries to say "Yes, sir!" and manages "yhhhsssuhh." On the bright side, the instant bitch slap of pain to his face makes him sober up a bit and remember Hank is old, drunk, and more than halfway to incompetent now. 

So that's great. 

At least the big ol' fucking yaoi hand holding his hostage stopped him from trying to salute, thank _God_. 

Hank takes a deep breath to gear up for a lecture. Because that's just what Gavin needs right now. If he gets fired, they'd better let Tina take over as Nines' partner. Anyone else would just fuck it up and be mean to him, and none of this is Nines' fault. 

"First of all, fuck you for making me give the exact same goddamn speech Jeffery gave me after I pulled that warehouse stunt." 

Wait. The one that … got him promoted? 

"I bet he's laughing his fucking ass off right now," Hank gripes. "But second, don't you ever fucking go into a situation like this, completely blind, without calling for back up!" 

Holy fuck, Hank is getting him into trouble for being exactly like him, he's just like _Lieutenant Hank Anderson_ , he said so! Why can't he smile? Ugh, what's that on his face? McPhckin' Yaoi Hands won't let him find out. Unfair! Give Gavin Free Hands 20-whatever-year-it-is. 

"I'm gonna put you on desk duty for … uhh … hmm, Jeff gave me one month, so you know what? I’m giving you three, you little shit." 

Lieutenant Hank Anderson just called him a little shit. Yayyy! That's like, in an endearing way, right? Hank hasn't called him that in a long time. Just _lazy_ and _pain in the ass_ and _shut up Reed, m'fucking hungover._

Those aren't fun insults. Those are mean. When did Hank get mean? 

"And right now, you're the one supposed to be in charge here, showing Nines the ropes. You can't risk your partner's life chasing headlines." 

Oh no, he did bad. That's right, he did really bad. But he remembers again, the tall gorgeous babe next to him is his _partner_. How'd he swing that? Gavin squeezes his hand in apology. He can't kiss him or his hand because there's all this stupid _stuff_ on his face, dammit. 

"But _hero cop rescues android child_ is gonna look pretty good. She says you saved her life." Hank reaches out and claps his shoulder. "You did good, son." 

Oh fuck he's going to die he's actually going to die he lived but now he's going to die of happiness and also horniness and never wash that shoulder ever again. 

No, wait, Nines might have a problem with that. The prettiest man in the world standing next to him—voluntarily touching him! wow! they're holding hands, wow—is named Nines and he likes to be clean and he likes it when Gavin is clean and Gavin likes that too because one time they were in the shower together and that was greeeat. 

Gavin will wash the shoulder that Lieutenant Hank Anderson touched, but only for Nines. 

He tries to move his hands, then ends up shaking them and whining until Nines finally lets go. Free hands! Wow, they really just move like that, huh? He thinks brain-thoughts and his hands make … movement. Wow. 

Wait, focus. 

Gavin holds up nine fingers—he has to count a couple of times to be sure—then finger-spells O-K. Shit, he doesn't know how to make a question mark. He tries to draw one in the air but then he gets distracted again by his own hand making those cool loops. 

"Yeah, yeah, hey." Hank's voice draws him back. "Nines is gonna be fine. You might not remember this later, but Connor and I won't ever let you two forget his emergency broadcast included _examining_ you, a subtask that only said dogs with three question marks, and this picture of your face." 

Hank holds up his cellphone to show some really cute blushing guy. Someone took the time to draw red squiggles on his cheeks to highlight the blush and pretty stars all around his head. Maybe if he looked like that, he'd have a chance with his super gorgeous partner. 

"Oh!" Hank reaches back inside his pocket. "He also told me to give you this uh, rock." 

Hank gives Nines a rock. Goddammit, that's such a good move. Gavin wishes he'd thought to give Nines a cool rock. Now his partner is going to fall in love with Hank instead and they'll— 

Nines eats the rock. 

Gavin physically cannot stop himself from laughing at how weird that is. He just fucking—he eats it. He eats the rock. 

"OK, I'm giving him another hit of morphine. We need to get … him to … the … hos … pi …" 

His world slows down, then goes upside down. There's a ceiling up there. It feels good to lay down. Laying on the floor should be a lot more accepted and also hands. More hands should—should—touch. 

Gavin tries to show the pretty man he has hands, but they're already holding hands. That's good. He needs to hold hands with the pretty man. The last time he was in the loud car, his partner couldn't come with him. That was sad. He went to a hospital and it was cold and horrible and it sucked. 

He doesn't want to go to another hospital but maybe it will be OK because Nines is here and he's the prettiest man in the world 

does he know how pretty he is and his hands are pretty too and also 

proud and kind of bitchy but that's just because 

he's super smarter than everyon eelse 

so is Ok if hesb itchyGa vn 

looove ...

... lo ...

ves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin loves Nines, and Nines loves his human and his rock <3 both are very special to him and no one else is ever allowed to touch either of them ever again
> 
>  **coming up next:** We're uhh, not quite at the comfort part yet. IA keeps Gavin and Nines separated so they can't get their story together while being investigated for an "officer involved shooting." Tina visits Gavin though and brings him a special gift, plus a care package from Hank and Connor! All Gavin needs to do now is convince IA to fuck off and leave them alone, and then he'll finally get to see his partner again ...
> 
> I can't believe we're getting so close to the end of this fic! I'm about halfway through with the sequel, but I might still need a month (or three) between the end of this one and when I'm ready to start publishing that one ;n; please wish me luck with getting it done!


	28. Nines Has Done Nothing Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina visits Gavin in the hospital to bring him a special gift from Nines since his partner can't be there himself. IA wants to keep them separate so they can't get their story straight about the "officer involved shooting." Now if Gavin wants his partner back, he'll have to convince them that Nines did nothing wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I apologize in advance that Nines isn't actually in this chapter, but there's lots of Gavin and Gavin pining for Nines! they'll also be reunited next chapter to snuggle and comfort each other, I promise!
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** brief suicidal thought, references to shooting / death, IA basically interrogates Gavin while he's still injured, references to Hank's alcoholism again, Gavin has dyslexia and one of the agents makes fun of him for it

Gavin wakes up feeling pretty damn good, so obviously something must be wrong. He stares up at a shitty ceiling that isn't his shitty ceiling and realizes that Piece of Shit must have taken him to a secondary location. 

An android starts beeping at him, and he scrambles to sit up, trying to get away from it, but his right arm is still chained to— 

"Hey, hey, Gavy, it's OK." 

Tina? 

"Eenuh?" 

Gavin blinks, and the hospital room swirls into place. Tina is sitting in the chair next to his bed, and he must be in one of those stupid paper gowns because he can feel the bedsheets against his bare ass. 

No one else is in the room. 

"Nuhns?" 

"Nines is OK," Tina tells him. "He just can't be here right now." 

Gavin falls back against his pillow because he might as well just fucking DIE then. Don't cry. Don't _cry_ , he's probably busy doing important stuff with people way more important than his dumb stupid partner. 

"He would be, I promise," Tina says. "He's been bugging everyone about how you're doing and—hey, hey Gavy, he sent you this~" 

Gavin sniffles and reluctantly looks over at Tina's sing-song voice. She has—holy shit, she has a cat! Gavin makes grabby hands for the cat-friend, and Tina actually hands it over without any lecture about his allergies. He figures out in a normal amount of time that it's a stuffed animal and definitely doesn't spend a minute or two thinking it's just shy. 

"He said Mipsey will keep you company since he can't be here." 

Mipsey! It's like Sipsey, but different. Kind of. Wow, androids really aren't creative, huh? Gavin cuddles Princess Mipsey closer and maybe does actually cry a little bit because he'd only mentioned the Sipsey tragedy like, one time, and he didn't realize Nines had really been listening or that he cared because it's not like anyone ever cared. 

He grabs the comm tablet from the nightstand and messily scrawls with the stylus, _y no 9???_

Tina winces and takes a deep breath. "Well … technically, what happened got labeled an officer-involved shooting. Uh, and electrocution." 

All right, so bullshit is going down. Gavin tries to huff, but has to settle for fuming with his fucking jaw wired fucking shut instead. The one single time an "oFfiCEr INvOlvEd sHoOTiNg" doesn't actually involve an officer actually fucking shooting anyone, suddenly the precinct has to make a big deal about it. 

"IA is getting involved." Tina clenches her jaw for a second before she continues. "It looks like it will all shake out right. I heard they confirmed on their own the only one with gun-shot residue on his hand was the WJ-seven-hundred. They're just all up their asses about Nines being an android consultant and the gun being your service weapon." 

Gavin furiously scribbles, _9s did nohting wrong!!!!_

Tina nods. "Yeah, I know. Captain knows too. All the other androids are fine—well, except for the mall cop. But, the girl, she said they were all forced by the WJ and that he tortured you and Nines. Oh, and Juarez woke up, she's recovering too, and ID'd the WJ-seven-hundred as the one who shot her." 

_9s OK??_ Gavin asks again, just to be sure. 

Tina grins. "Yeah, he's fine. He keeps asking about you too. I think he'd hack your heart monitor if he could. His voice box's still fried though, but that's the only thing." 

_want him hear,_ Gavin writes. _pls?_

He keeps writing before Tina can respond. There's no way Nines isn't still synced up to this tablet. Or whatever you call it. 

_9s pls miss u pls??_ He tries again how Nines would like it. _Please?_

"Hey." Tina reaches out and holds onto his hand. "Nines isn't connected to the tablet. IA doesn't want you to work out a single story about what happened." 

_canI see 9s when investegations over?_ he asks. 

"He'll be the first person here." She squeezes his arm and lets go. "Hank and the captain have both _accidentally_ let it slip they think it'll work out fine. We're all with you on this." 

Gavin looks down and focuses on petting Princess Mipsey. Tina probably wouldn't bullshit him. Probably. But he can't wrap his head around Hank or Fowler going to bat for him on anything. 

Maybe they're doing it for Nines. Yeah, he definitely deserves it at least. He's competent and smart enough Fowler won't want to lose him, and he's Connor's brother, so Hank's probably sticking up for him for that. 

"Hey, no stress," Tina reminds him. "C'mon, I brought you markers! I know you like writing on real paper. It's a gift from Hank. You should make him a card or something. I'll help." 

As much as all the IA talk sobered him up, morphine-brain-Gavin can't resist the allure of real paper and fresh markers. Plus, she said they came from Hank! That's not like, a get well card and flowers, but it's not like he expected anyone to care anyway. Tina visiting, Nines sending him a stuffed animal, Hank getting him stuff too, that's— 

Maybe they do care. 

*** 

"You don't have to fucking do this, Reed," Hank grumbles. 

Gavin doesn't reply. He's too focused on sitting upright and ignoring the pounding in his skull. The pain started in his jaw of course, but now it feels like termites are eating through his brain. 

Whatever. Hank probably just didn't want to drag his ass all the way down to the hospital. 

He wasn't going to feel bad about it though. Not enough to agree to have "his union rep" sit in here instead. One more stranger in the room wasn't going to help anything, and as long as Hank was going to insist on being here anyway, Gavin trusts him a lot more to actually look out for him than some guy he'd never met. 

"Are you ready to begin, Detective Reed?" Agent Montoya asks. 

Gavin taps his stylus twice against the side of his comm tablet. Agent Cliffs makes a big show of frowning and huffing, but Hank cuts him off before he can speak. 

"That means yes. Nodding would hurt his head," Hank says, then doesn't even bother to mutter under his breath when he adds. "Fucking obviously." 

"For the record," Montoya quickly begins, also cutting off Cliffs. "You are of sound mind, and you agree to give your statement now instead of waiting until the hospital discharges you?" 

Gavin actually bothers to write out, _yes_ this time. Agent Montoya always seemed competent enough the few times he'd seen her around. Never got flustered by rat squad comments, never seemed to have it out for anyone, but also didn't back down from anyone with political connections. 

And it's not that he thinks there's no way she could ever be dirty just because she's a gay black woman. He's seen plenty of people with ~minority identities~ fall just as hard as straight cis white men to buy into identity politics. 

He just thinks it's a little _less likely_ to happen to her is all. 

Too bad her partner is a weasely little fuck sucker. And no, that's not because he is a straight cis white man. Two minutes into this interview and Gavin can tell Cliffs earned that office gossip about himself all on his own. 

Gavin would know all about that after all. 

"For the record," Montoya repeats. "We will not base our final report off the questions asked now. This is simply to get your statement down while your memory is fresh. I understand forgoing morphine while speaking to us must be painful, and I appreciate your willingness to cooperate." 

Agent Cliffs makes a dissenting noise and shifts in his seat. Hank crosses his arms, and he settles down real fucking quick, however. 

"Due to the … politically sensitive nature of android involvement in this particular incident, and how controversial it could become, we would like to get our facts straight as soon as possible." 

Yeah, yeah. Gavin taps his stylus twice to show he understands. He wants to get this over with ASAP too. She's not—well, not entirely—bullshitting about how quickly this could all shit sideways. It's worth a little pain to get his statement out now instead of going on the defensive later. 

"Your partner has already given us his statement." 

Mm-hmm. Gavin doesn't know if that's true or not and he doesn't care. He's been on the other side enough times to know one is as equally likely as the other. 

"Can you tell us, in your own words, what happened?" 

Gavin starts typing, forgoing the stylus to lay the tablet down on the lap-desk and make use of the keyboard. It's a long report, and his handwriting is shit. But he's barely typed five sentences before Agent Cliffs interrupts with a question. 

"If you thought your perp was responsible for two shootings already, and he was inside the building, why did you go in without calling for backup?" he demands. 

Oh great, they're doing good cop, bad cop. Gavin only resists rolling his eyes because that might make his head hurt too. Agent Montoya doesn't exactly give him a sympathetic look, but the look she gives him doesn't seem to hold any malice either. This is just how it goes. 

Gavin picks the stylus back up to draw an underline beneath the third sentence. Montoya glances down at her comm tablet as it updates to match his. 

_Drews told us the perp might us the adanboned mall in troy out by i75. ?ed him in public bc if we cornered him in private, he might say we roughed him up android was mean hacked his phoen or w/e. needed to move fast after that b4 android hivemind tipped off WJ700 we were onto him. sent drews to handk and connor anyway. went in north entrance and_

"So it was your decision to take an android consultant with a history of violence into an unknown building possibly filled with hostiles?" Cliffs asks. 

Gavin would smile at him if he could, but he can't, so he has to wreck the agent's sit without even being smarmy about it. 

_what history of violence?_

Agent Cliffs opens his mouth, blinks, and splutters for a second. "He—being a deviant hunter. He's an upgraded, even more dangerous Connor." 

Oh hell yeah, that seemed like a genuine reaction. Captain Fowler had said Gavin, Hank, and obviously Connor were the only ones at the DPD who needed to know Nines wasn't just an "upgraded Connor," but Gavin wasn't exactly going to believe a fucking pinky promise on that. But if IA really thinks RK900 is up a number from 800 just because he has some nebulous "upgrades"—and not that he's a whole new beast entirely—then they have no idea what they're dealing with. 

Gavin starts typing out his response, but Hank lays a hand on his arm. 

"I got it," Hank says. "This stays between us in this room, but Nines was found in a storage closet. He came to work for the DPD immediately after that, and he doesn't have any fucking history of even touching any suspects." 

"He—but he …" 

Montoya clears her throat. "What my colleague would like to verify is that there haven't been any unaccounted for periods in that timeline." 

"Look, the millionaire who uh …" Hank makes a face, and Montoya mimics his discomfort. "Ordered him, apparently just came down to Cyberlife to check on his progress a few times, but then got distracted by all the other neat toys and never bothered to pick him up. He was at Cyberlife the whole time, then he was with me and Connor." 

"How do we know he was 'at Cyberlife the whole time'?" Cliffs asks, with air quotes. 

God, and he thought Nines doing it was annoying. Gavin would love to tell this asshole to fuck off himself, but Hank seems to have it handled, and his head hurts bad enough he's willing to let him have it. 

"He was in one of those," Hank waves his hand around. "Stasis containers. Charging stations, whatever. Connor and Markus both verified no one accessed the … pod-thing since he was put in there after being, y'know. Built." 

Cliffs doesn't stop. "And he couldn't have modified that information? You're certain Connor relayed that information to you accurately? Do you know that Cyberlife's testing phase didn't include—" 

Hank scoffs. "Well you're fucking welcome to subpoena them for that. _Testing phase didn't include_ —do you even give a shit about what happened at the mall or is this just a witch hunt for a big scary android you can string up without any bleeding hearts getting all weepy over it?" 

_its bc he cant smile_ , Gavin immediately writes. _hes wierd and scary looking and doesnt lick boots like connor so yeah no shit hank theyre gong after the android who didnt help the revoultion but looks enough like him so people get the fcking point_

Montoya takes a deep breath and holds her hands out. "This is _not_ a witch hunt. We're not trying to prove any point here. But if we're going to stand behind what you and a DPD consultant did, we need to make goddamn sure it was completely, one hundred percent on the level." 

Hank grunts. Gavin wishes he could do the same. He's tempted to flip them both off but that won't help anyone. Cliffs is clearly grinding his jaw, but he shuts up finally and lets Agent Montoya take the lead. 

"What happened after you entered the mall?" Montoya asks. 

_got shot aat. Nines stepped in front of bullet. he came w/fancy underarmor stuff under his suit thats like a vest. supposed to be more durble than connor or w/e too._

"RK-nine-hundred stepped in front of a bullet for you?" Montoya repeats out loud. 

_yeah like twice?? maybe 3. idk he was handling the android with the gun and telling me_

"Define handling," Cliffs interrupts. 

Gavin automatically grits his teeth out of irritation and immediately fucking regrets that decision. Luckily, Montoya and Hank both glare Cliffs down into waiting until the oh-god-it'd-be-easier-to-just-rip-off-my-jaw-entirely pain to fade so he can answer. 

_styaing between me and the android. keeping track of both their positions._

"Both?" Montoya asks. 

_yeah 1 more android coming up on my 3 trying to sneak up on me. Nines synced to radio & telling me wheer at + bullhorn blasting that were DPD and only here for WJ700. 1st android w/gun said sorry and she had to do it. shot at me again I think. 2nd andriod w/golf club came at me and I sidarmed him, wrestled him down, cuffed him. Nines handled the other android_

Before Cliffs can even open his fat, stupid mouth, Gavin quickly writes, _handled = disarmed + stasis. once I had my perp down n cuffed, I checked her cuffs too._

Montoya nods. "Was that before or after RK-nine-hundred began pursuit of a third android?" 

Gavin tries to keep a wince off his face. Hopefully, he looks like he's always grimacing from the pain and they don't notice. 

_after. we both had our perps down,, but then Nines froze, looking dwn at other end of mall. I asked him what was going on but he bolted b4 I could tell him to stand down._

Montoya makes some notes on her own tablet. "Did he give you any indication what he was doing?" 

_yes he reported a 3rd android throgh radio and he was pursuing_

Cliffs speaks up again. "That didn't concern you?" 

_I gave him orders befor we went in._ Gavin tries to concentrate past the pain, lingering morphine, and shitty sleep to remember exactly what he'd said. _RK900 do not deactivate or injure any human or android other than our suspect. Use non-lethal force only to protect me or yourself._

"Yet he pursued the third android," Montoya says. 

Gavin shrugs. _only to stasis and cuff like others. wasnt trying to bring it_ —Shit. He backspaces and corrects himself. _them in, just wed already been shot at and that android mightave got rinforcements or tipped off WJ700 to run_

"And all the androids he put in stasis are just fine by the way," Hank adds. "Didn't even wake up with a hangover." 

"Oh, well I hear you're quite the expert, so I'll jot that down," Cliffs says. 

" _Agent_ ," Montoya grits out. 

Cliffs clears his throat and drops eye contact with Hank, who doesn't look like he gives a shit either way. 

"I do have to ask you though, Lieutenant," Montoya continues. "Can Connor, the RK-eight-hundred you specifically work with, also force other androids into stasis?" 

Hank shrugs, at ease with the question. "Maybe. If we'd caught up with those Tracis from the club, I dunno, maybe that's how he would have handled it." 

"With all due respect Lieutenant, I need better than a maybe." 

"He's deviated now," Hank replies. "Look, I can barely make a hologram fullscreen on my cellphone—" 

Oh my god, this might actually be the most Gavin has ever wanted to scream. Yes, including when he was tortured. Listening to Hank call projecting a hologram "fullscreen" like this is a youtube video from 2015 is actually way worse than being strung up from the ceiling. 

Cliffs barely bothers to hide a laugh as a cough, and Montoya's face goes carefully blank. 

"But from what I understand," Hank continues, acting oblivious. "Now he can't go through his own programs like choosing what app he wants to play. It's like—he's a person now. He can still do all of the same stuff, but it's instinctive now." 

"And what does that actually mean?" Cliffs asks. 

"Do you know for-fucking-certain you can put a suspect in a full nelson?" Hank shoots back. "One hundred percent, for sure, that's something you can do? Or are you just gonna have to chase him down and figure it out like all the rest of us?" 

Agent Cliffs frowns and probably would keep arguing the point, but Montoya waves him down. 

"I'm more interested in whether RK-nine-hundred has deviated." 

_no. thats why he couldn’t have disobeyd my orders_

"But he did use lethal force against the WJ-seven-hundred," Agent Montoya presses. 

Gavin's ready for that question. _he stopped the WJ._

Cliffs snorts. "Yeah, by electrocuting it." At Montoya's sharp look, he rolls his eyes. "Him, whatever." 

_the electricity didnt kill Nines & I said he could use nonleathal force to protect me and him_

Montoya arches a perfectly contoured eyebrow. "You really think RK-nine-hundred thought an electric cable directly to the back of the neck was nonlethal?" 

Gavin starts typing again. _how many news storie shave you heard about someone dyng from 1 good punch to the head? are we gonn a start outlawing punches as leathal force now? just bc it could kill someone??_

Agent Cliffs makes another scoff again over that, but Montoya seems to be listening at least. 

_look im not trying to say Nines is some naive baby child who didnt undrstand electricity would hurt him. just that it wasnt 100% absolutely guaranteed to kill him_

"That's not the sort of nitpicking I expect to see from an android who's supposedly still a machine," Montoya says. 

_yeah and he only got there after half hour of watching me get torotured. What would you do if that was your parnter?_ Gavin looks up and gives Cliffs a once over. _wait sorry bad example_

Cliffs rolls his eyes. "Well I wouldn't want to get torotured." 

Gavin flushes. He picks up the stylus because he'll break the fucking tablet if he tries to squeeze that. 

"Let's try to wrap this up," Montoya says. "What happened with the GS-two-hundred?" 

_WJ700 asks if we called for backup, I said I told Nines to do it and I didn't know who he called or when bc I'm jsut a dumb human who cant do shit without a n android helping him. he unlocked Nines' voicebox or wahtever for a sec so he could answer and Nines did dolphin attack againts_

"What the hell is a dolphin attack?" Cliffs asks. "And I know we said no extra programs on his comm tablet, but can we please get him autocorrect? Spellcheck, something? This is making my head hurt." 

"Yeah, it'd be a real fucking shame if _your_ head got injured in the line of duty," Hank growls. 

Cliffs flushes as hard at that as Gavin does over being the stupid dumbass who still spells like an un-gifted third grader. 

"A dolphin attack is a voice command inaudible to human ears," Montoya speaks up to verbally step between the two men. "I've heard of it being used to order those retro home devices to make purchases they shouldn't, download malware, that sort of thing. I didn't realize it could be used against androids." 

_not sure it can_ , Gavin types back. _I think Nines was throwing whatever spaghetti he thought would stick. he was making a lot of high-pitched shit that sounded like seizures so it mightve just been to confuse them? GS started lurching around maybe trying to hit me again but it got hit when WJ shot at me. if he was giving commands they were probably just for both of them to hit stasis but obv that didnt work_

"And what are you basing that assumption off of?" Montoya asks. 

_what I would do?? wait no actually I wouldve made them do a lot worse shit to each other than dgo to sleep. but that’s what Nines did to tthe other two androids soooo,,_

"And you saw RK-Nine-Hundred press the live electric cable against the WJ-Seven-Hundred neck?" 

Gavin taps his stylus twice. 

"Was the electric cable already exposed when you arrived in the room." 

Gavin taps once. 

"How did RK-Nine-Hundred get to it?" 

_held down WJ and pulled it out of the concrete_

"Pulled it out of the concrete?" Cliffs repeats. 

Gavin holds eye contact with him and slowly taps twice with as much disrespect as he can possibly convey. Given how much practice he has with pissing off authority figures, it's a lot. 

"If he had that kind of strength, why not just snap the WJ's head? Crush its skull?" 

_nonlethal force dipshit_

"Hey! You can't—" 

"I think that will be all for our questions today, Detective Reed," Agent Montoya says. "Please hand over your comm tablet. The department is replacing it with a new one." 

So it really was a trap. Fuckers. 

Gavin trades her the tablet for a new one that looks exactly the same. Hank is already standing and using his larger size to herd Cliffs out of the room. Montoya wishes him well and might actually mean it, and then they're gone. 

Hank turns back around. "You want any—" 

Gavin flashes him nine fingers and then points down. _Nines here._

Hank nods. "All right. Just a heads up though, he's been moping around in our garage on some victim-blaming bullshit about how it was all his fault so you might have to smack or kiss that out of him." 

Gavin flips him off, but he's way too tired to actually care about his own no homo bullshit. OK actually, it's not the homo thing at all. He's never hidden that. No … andro? He just feels dumb kinda sort of hooking up with android after what an ass he was. 

And if the nurses need to think partner equals boyfriend to let Nines in, then he'll tell everyone they're having a June wedding. 

He just wants his friend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin misses his (boy)frieeeeeend, the poor baby. he'll get some cuddles next time though! speaking of which,
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines is released by IA and stands guard over (stares at) Gavin's sleeping body until he wakes up. Gavin demands cuddles and forces him to accept the assessment that him getting injured wasn't his fault and they're still partners and he will NOT be punished. Gavin is also still a little bit high and grumpy from the residual morphine, so Nines snuggles and pets his angry little human into a better mood <3


	29. Still Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines is released by IA and stands guard over (stares at) Gavin's sleeping body until he wakes up. Gavin demands cuddles and forces him to accept the assessment that him getting injured wasn't his fault and they're still partners and he will NOT be punished. Gavin is also still a little bit high and grumpy from the residual morphine, so Nines snuggles and pets his angry little human into a better mood <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, we finally get comfort!! also, Gavin is still high on morphine, lol. apparently, lots of you enjoy that so I'm happy to give the people what they want, even though I myself have never taken morphine, been high, or even gotten drunk before so I am 100% guessing what that would be like lmao
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Nines is dissociating pretty much the whole chapter, Gavin references starting physical fights due to touch-starvation, both Gavin and Nines are nonverbal bc of stress and injury, Gavin's self-worth relies on having unsafe sex, Nines thinks he deserves to be punished, "drug" use (morphine)

RK900 observes his sleeping human. The nurses' accusations were inaccurate; he is not "staring." He is simply able to better monitor his human than the inferior devices assigned to monitor his heart rate. 

He also stands guard. Some other humans might come in and try to bother Gavin while he is sleeping. RK900 does not consume human media at the rate his predecessor does, but even a casual perusal reveals there should be many humans here, and flowers, and possibly balloons. 

Yet Detective Chen is the only person to have visited, and her schedule is busy now. The two IA agents, and Hank accompanying them, do not count. 

Gavin stirs and whines in the back of his throat. He pulls his hand back away from RK900's fingers resting against his wrist in an effort to curl up in the fetal position. His other wrist gets caught by the IV in it and Gavin whimpers again, then makes more frantic noises as he simultaneously begins to wake and realize he can't speak. 

The ringing sound in his head (that does not exist) starts back up again. RK900 reaches out and places his hand firmly on Gavin's chest instead. He can feel the human's heart beat directly below and also prevent him from struggling. 

Gavin opens his eyes. His first instinct is to swing wildly at the possible threat with his right hand, but that is the wrist with the IV, so RK900 leans over him and pins his arm to the bed. 

RK900 tries to speak. His voice box is not physically damaged. The ringing gets louder. 

Gavin abruptly stops struggling to push him away and instead begins trying to pull him closer. When RK900 remains unmoved, the human pushes himself up on his left elbow and presses his forehead to RK900's chest. He can likely feel the android's pump work directly below. 

Gavin exhales slowly and stills. The ringing fades too. 

The awkward half-bent position does not bother RK900, but he remembers that human muscles get tired and sore. He releases Gavin's wrist and slides his right hand behind his back to support the human as he eases him back down onto the bed. 

Gavin's hands scrabble against the smooth surface of his Cyberlife jacket, and he starts making those desperate noises again. RK900 doesn't stop him when his clumsy hands finally find the zipper. He only holds it though. 

"Mmm?" 

He taps his free hand twice against RK900's shoulder in question. The ringing grows so loud, it almost drowns out the heart monitor. His mission objectives begin to squiggle dangerously. 

RK900 tries to set his mind back into calm, logical order. Straight lines only. Deviating can only make the situation worse. He can barely operate efficiently as it is without introducing the added experience of even more emotions, more strongly. 

What he needs is for Detective Reed [partner] to tell him to [calm your fucking tits already] but Gavin cannot speak and the ringing is so loud— 

Gavin releases his zipper. 

No. 

[No.] 

[̝̣̜̣̝͉ͅN͝Ơ͈̫̱̺̞̥͈?̱̥͈̦̣̺̮?̲̞̘̻]̤̳̼̭̙͟ 

RK900 guides his hand back to the zipper. Gavin. _Gavin_. Perhaps it is beneficial that he cannot speak. His thoughts are clearly too incomprehensible to be of any use. He is not even certain of what he wa— 

His HUD shudders again. 

Gavin taps twice on his shoulder. RK900 forces himself to focus on that. His human. His human asks permission. RK900 cannot preconstruct what the human intends to do once the jacket is opened, but RK900 the most advanced android ever created is failing to preconstruct a great many things at the moment. 

He squeezes Gavin's hand twice. 

*** 

Nines is clearly back on his bullshit again like Hank said, but that's OK because Gavin has him now and he won't let anything hurt his baby again, ever. 

That includes Gavin himself though, so he stops himself from yanking the zipper down and touching all over even though he's practically vibrating with the effort. Nines doesn't like to be touched. 

Which is weird as hell to Gavin's touch-starved brain. He starts fights with people just so they'll punch him, so he can't imagine being touch-repulsed but Nines is and he isn't going to hurt him. 

"Mmm?" 

That's the best he can manage past the bandage wrapped around his head and under his jaw. He knows he's not supposed to talk or try to move it at all so it can heal, but he has a lot to say! He's an American citizen with rights and he has opinions!! 

Nines doesn't respond, so Gavin lets go of the zipper. Only a clear, uncoerced yes is a yes. Nines doesn't like to be touched. OK, so he has no fucking idea what that leaves, like? He can't even talk. Maybe he can do some sort of interpretive mating dance to cheer him up because the big dummy's LED has been stuck on red the whole time and that's got to go. 

Nines grabs his hand though and puts it back on the zipper. Gavin's still pretty loopy from the constant low dose of morphine to keep him from tearing his face off—plus the general shittiness of spending two … or three? days in the hospital with fuck all to do—so he's not exactly up to his usual mental par to deal with mixed signals right now. 

Tap-tap? 

Nines squeezes his hand twice, and it's a good thing Gavin's jaw is wrapped shut because he'd probably squeal something embarrassing and stupid like _yay!_

Nines lets him pull the zipper all the way down, and Gavin tries to move his hands slowly when he reaches past the jacket to touch the android's side. It's all there. No giant gaping holes or anything. He didn't really have time to think about it at the mall, but the guy took two or three shotgun blasts and seems to be fine? Maybe Connor gave him a new suit. 

Gavin presses over where his pump should be, but doesn’t feel anything. Shouldn’t there be like, an indent or—or maybe the casing sticks out a little? Shit, he’s never felt up an android before, so he doesn’t actually know. After a few seconds of pressing his hand against various spots, he realizes he can feel the vibrations though if he just holds it still. So wherever it is, it’s in there.   
  
He smooths his hands up the android's chest to his neck next and—no, don't think horny thoughts just because there's bare skin that's usually hidden behind that stupid high collar. He carefully touches the totally unnecessary adam's apple that must just be there for aesthetic. 

Nines doesn't speak. 

His LED stays red, and he drops his typical intense stare from Gavin's face down to his chest. Gavin really doubts only his voice box got fried from holding the power cable when literally everything else seems fine, and he equally doubts that WJ piece of shit actually managed to blow it out either. 

But then again, what the fuck does he know? 

That Nines is on his bullshit and that's Not Allowed. 

Gavin reaches up and rubs his thumb over the LED like he's wiping away a smear of blood. Nines leans into the touch and glances up for a second. It flashes blue for one single spin, then goes back to flat red as Nines drops his gaze. 

Bullshit. 

Gavin tries to pull him closer but it's like trying to push-start a semi. He doesn't—fuck, he can't speak and Nines doesn't like touch, so how's he supposed to make this better? Sucking dick is one out of like, all five of his good traits, and three are about being a detective and the last is taking it up the ass without much prep. 

Neither of which matter for a dickless android. 

Nines starts to pull away and Gavin clutches harder. It's a goddamn metaphor for his whole entire life, but he'll think of something, there has to be something he can do or offer to make him stay, just— 

Gavin forces himself to be a big boy and let go before he fucking embarrasses himself even more. Nines doesn't leave, thank god, he just stands beside the bed with his hands clasped behind his back like Captain Fowler is going to burst in at any second to conduct a formal review. 

His cellphone lights up next to the comm tablet on the little stand next to his bed. 

_Headphones._

Oh yeah, definitely some sort of bullshit going on if Nines is texting in one word sentences instead of a six paragraph treatise. Gavin fumbles through the drawer before he finds his headphones salvaged out of his jacket pocket. Tina swears she took his jacket safely back to his apartment since he can't wear it here anyway and she fucking better be telling the truth. 

He holds the headphone jack over both his phone and the department comm tablet. His phone vibrates, so he plugs them into that one. Yes, his headphones are still the kind with physical wires. No, he doesn't give a shit. They were cheap. 

_I am ready to give my report, Detective,_ Nines' voice says through the headphones. 

**wtf report???**

Nines hesitates before "speaking" again. _The report of my failure to properly—_

Hell no, Gavin isn't going to listen to that shit. He scoots forward in the bed so there's room behind him and points at Nines, then to the bed. It's the only way they'll both fit on the glorified army cot. 

Nines looks away. Motherfucker. 

Gavin grabs his jacket and tries to tug him closer. It doesn't work of course, but when has that ever stopped his bad ideas? He knows Nines knows what he wants because he's staring straight ahead like a cat being told to get off the counter pretending he's never ever heard his human say those words before, no sir. 

He snaps his fingers and points at the bed. Nines reluctantly begins to move, and his obedience now makes blood roar through Gavin's ears. 

_You taking orders from humans now you tin can piece of shit just gonna let me boss you around like you're Connor where's my Nines I want MY Nines back not whoever the fuck you are!_

But he can't fucking say any of that. He twists around a little too hard when Nines slides into the bed, grumpily throwing his body around because he's a pissed off little child and of course his fucking IV gets fucking tangled up fucking again. 

Nines stops him from ripping it out. Gavin tries to yank his wrist out of the android's grip, but he doesn't relent. The IV line isn't long enough to let him turn all the way around to face Nines, and he wants to hold that dumb stupid android face in his hands dammit. 

Gavin pulls against Nines' grip again, then snaps his fingers and points to his wrist. 

Nines looks away. 

Gavin taps at his hand covering his wrist where the IV goes in, then starts jabbing at it with his fingers. Nines stares straight ahead and refuses to acknowledge his demand. 

Gavin turns back around and throws himself backwards against the android's stupid fucking chest. Which turns out to be a bad idea, because he bangs the back of his head against what feels like a brick wall, jesus fucking christ. 

That gets Nines to pay attention to him again, fussing over the back of his head even as he still refuses to let go of his wrist. 

Gavin heaves a sigh and lets Nines do whatever the fuck he wants. At least he isn't totally brain-washed obedient. He's still the same asshole, Hank was just right about him being on that victim-blaming bullshit. 

_Will you listen to my report now, detective?_

Nines gently places his cellphone back in his lap—oh there it is—and tucks the blankets back around his hips. All with his left hand, because he will not let go of his wrist. Luckily, Gavin can type with only his left hand too. 

**letgo I wont take it out**

Nines slowly unclenches his hand. _Please remember that is what feeds you morphine. Also, removing an IV drip is not nearly as easy as shown in human media. You are more likely to rip out your own vein._

Yeah, that's the sort of lecture he expects from his asshole partner. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to read all the way through that though. 

**I know dipshit ive done it befero**

_You are the least reassuring human I have ever spoken to._

**wow all 5 of us??**

_Will you listen to my report now, detective?_

Gavin has to remind himself that snorting hurts his face. **is it som stupid bullshit about how its all ur fault?**

_Will you listen to my report now, detective?_

**u shouldntve gone after that android withotu me**

**sry for spelling**

Nines makes shushing noises through the headphones. It's … not really soothing though. The shushes sound like he's literally just making the _shhh_ sound, like a very stern librarian. Gavin takes his hand and pulls it up to his chest, then slowly rubs it up and down. Nines seems to get the message, because he starts doing it on his own, although he's just copying the same movement exactly over and over again. 

A text message pops up on his cellphone. _[Gavin Reed enjoys physical touch] — y/n?_

Shit, maybe him enjoying being touched is just as weird for Nines as not liking it is to him. 

**yes. u good w/touching?**

Nines texts him back instead of "speaking." _I am "good" with touching you. (y/n?)_

_I can permit you to touch me under certain circumstances._

_Thank you for asking permission._

_Will you listen to my report now, detective?_

Nines must have noticed how long it took him to read the last multiple-sentence text message, and he'd be embarrassed about it, but he's honestly just too exhausted at this point. Trying to read and spell while either in pain, on morphine, or both is almost as bad as the broken jaw itself. 

**yes, ty, np, no shut up**

**the only thing u did wrong was split up**

**don’t fuckign do that shit**

**parnters don’t leave each other behind**

Nines' chest behind him had been a solid, immovable wall, but now he can feel the android deliberately inhale, just so he can exhale out a sigh. He switches back to speaking through the headphones, probably to make sure Gavin can hear exactly how prissy he wants to sound. 

_My report does include taking responsibility for leaving you alone in an uncleared building with confirmed hostiles. **If** you would listen to it. Detective._

Yeah that's his bitchy little android. Gavin leans his head back, rubbing his nose along Nines' neck. Stupid fucking bandages. He can move his mouth enough to pucker his lips and leave chaste kisses, but he can't press any open mouth kisses against the synth-skin. Or bite him. He wants to bite him. Nines lets him do that sometimes. 

Mmm, boooo. Stupid bandages. 

_Detective?_

Gavin forces himself to stop nuzzling his partner like the dumb eager puppy he is and concentrate. Nines still needs him to be "Detective Reed" right now. 

**is ur report u submitting to me as my sudorbinate & I say how u get punshed for fucking up as ur CO?**

Nines answers through the headphones while he's still texting the last three words. _Yes, Detective._

**OK**

**RK900 u shouldnt hve left me alone. we're partners and we work as a TEAM.**

**Bad Rk900**

Gavin switches the phone to just his right hand, texting with his thumb so he can hold Nines' hand in his lap with his left hand. 

**u did well following my lead w/the YK girl.**

**u did well getting that bu gthing off.**

**u protected me and got me out of there.**

**ur still my partner OK**

When Nines doesn't respond, he adds, **y/n 9s**

_Yes, detective._

Nines doesn't whisper. A whisper implies a certain tone of voice, and Gavin's only heard that in various shades of irritated and disappointed. But he's starting to pick up on what little emotion his partner can express outside of that—like literally lowering his voice volume to that of a whisper, even when his tone is so flat he might as well be an automated cab. 

Gavin squeezes his hand. He really wants to play with it, do that bottom thing and compare their hands and then marvel over how much bigger his partner's is, but they have to get through this detective shit first. Besides, like ninety percent or something of Nines' sensors are in his hands, so he might not even like having them played with. 

Or maybe he'd really like it. Maybe all those sensors would let him feel— 

No, stop it. This isn't porn. Concentrate. 

**1) we practice sparring more show me some androids tricks and stuff**

**were gonna be patners we gotta learn to work together & I know im and asshole and its my fau**

_You are my asshole, detective,_ Nines says. 

Oh shit. Don't moan, don't moan! He's just high and needy and so, so into Nines' voice right in his ear telling him that he's _his_. Just finish the text. 

Gavin blinks down at his phone and realizes he has no idea what he was going to say next. 

Oh yeah, it's his fault. That's an easy one. 

**I wasted time being ur partner just yellinga ta you and knocking shit out of youir hands instead of doing anythign productive**

Nines doesn't deny that. He at least manages to scrounge up enough social tact not to directly agree with him either though. 

Right now, Gavin might be uninhibited enough to finally apologize—sort of, without the actual I'm sorry part—but a small part of his brain is dimly aware he'll probably regret these texts later. 

**anyway**

**Sorry**

Wait, shit, he wasn't supposed to type that. 

**anyway!!**

**2) ur punishment is u have t o take caerof me and be my good boy**

***food boy**

**sorry**

**get me pho & chicken soup & stuff. make me smoothies. im on a liquid n soft foods diet :( **

The music player on his phone pops up and starts playing Despacito. Gavin makes some sort of weird muffled chuckle, which is the closest he can get to a laugh right now with his jaw bandaged shut. The music pauses. 

_I will take care of you, detective._

**wanna b gavin**

He drops his cellphone in his lap after that, letting his head loll back again. Nines starts up the slow strokes up and down his chest that he showed him. His hand drifts higher sometimes to press his fingers against his neck or wrap briefly around his throat. 

_Gavin. Gavin Gavin Gavin._

Oh fuck, he's in sub heaven. Nines voice feels sooo good saying his name like that, the headphones making it feel like it's being broadcasted directly into his brain. Move over dopamine, he's gay and this is way better. 

Something bumps into his hand and he reluctantly moves his head to look down and see Nines offering him that magic little button that makes the morphine happen. He's been trying not to press it too often because feeling fuzzy and giggly when you're all alone turns to confused and lonely real fucking quick. 

But he's not alone now. Nines is here and Gavin slams that make-your-brain-nut button. Hell yeah. 

A hand touches his face—mm, good, touch me—and then slides into his hair—please please play with my hair—and guides his head back again. All that smooth, perfect synth skin stretches out as Nines cranes his neck to the side and presses Gavin's head closer. 

Gavin sure as hell doesn't need any more encouragement to kiss as much as his greedy sub mouth can reach. 

_Gavin you are my Gavin we are partners I will take care of you my good boy Gavin Gavin Gavin_

Fuuuck, he wants to say all that stuff back so bad, but there's all this stuff on his face and he can't talk. He loves Nines so much though and he loves Tina and he misses her and he misses Hank too because he still loves him even though he's mean now. He doesn't love Connor because fuck that guy but he could maybe be nice if Hank had to bring him?? 

Yeah, he could be nice. He feels really nice. Nines feels amazing. He's here now and he's not hurt or mad at Gavin and his LED is glowing yellow finally instead of red so everything's OK. 

It's OK. It's _OK_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's been commenting; I'm still trying to get caught up on replying to them, but I promise I read them all and I really appreciate the feedback! <3
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines goes back to work because he's a dumb repressed baby who refuses to accept he might need some time off too. He manages to have one full conversation with Chris, which is probably the most successful he's ever been at a social interaction before, but then fails utterly at writing a report. It turns out, writing a summary of events is very much like telling a story and "communicating," and maybe actually Gavin does a lot more work than he's given the detective credit for, whoops!


	30. Dialogue Option(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines goes back to work because he's a dumb repressed baby who refuses to accept he might need some time off too. He manages to have one full conversation with Chris, which is probably the most successful he's ever been at a social interaction before, but then fails utterly at writing a report. It turns out, writing a summary of events is very much like telling a story and "communicating," and maybe actually Gavin does a lot more work than he's given the detective credit for, whoops!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting so close to the end! sorry that now this is a chapter that doesn't have Gavin in it, and I have separated The Boys yet again. I promise they'll get back together and it will be worth it!!
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Nines is nonverbal throughout this chapter from stress and repressing his feelings, Nines references prejudices against autistic people which includes the quote "autie freaks," brief verbal bullying from a coworker

Nines goes back to work one day after Gavin checks out of the hospital. He has had less than a total of five days off. He returns because he is an android. He is uninjured. He is efficient. 

He is tired of Gavin being, in Tina Chen's words, a [big whiny baby]. 

Taking care of Gavin is his only priority outside of work, and the human is still mobile and now mostly-lucid since starting to wean himself off the pain killers. There is little reason for him to go back to his own apartment and stare at the walls. And at Gavin's apartment, there are only so many times he can [get the remote] and [go heat up some soup]. 

Heating up the can of Campbell's Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup – Low Sodium on top of the gas burner was efficient. It is not his fault Detective Gavin Reed couldn't detect that the metal can sitting on top of an open flame would be hot. 

Nines returns to work, before the next homicide case the department receives occurs at Gavin's apartment. 

"Hey," Detective Miller greets him as he enters the bullpen. "How you doin'?" 

Irrelevant small talk. Normally, Nines would ignore the unnecessary human sound, but Tina warned him [lots of people] would want to know about what happened and ask him questions. 

Detective Chris Miller is one of the more competent, least objectionable humans. If he answers this human's questions, he can spread those answers to their coworkers via the [gossip] they so enjoy. Then the other humans will not have any reason to bother him. 

Nines alters his path to stop near Detective Miller. He holds up the comm tablet he had requested and received, angled so that Miller can see [dialogue-option3]. 

_I cannot speak. My voice box was targeted by the WJ700's virus attack. Connor's bio-components are not compatible with my own and cannot serve as an immediate replacement. We are testing whether they can be modified. It may be over a month or so before we find a solution._

Miller sips on his coffee he reads. "… more than a month, huh? That sucks. You don't have anything else hurt, right?" 

Nines presents [dialogue-option1]. _I am fully operational and ready to return to work._

"That's good," Miller says. "How's Gavin doing?" 

Nines presents [dialogue-option2]. _Detective Reed received a dislocated jaw and minor fracture to the jawbone itself. His jaw was reset at the hospital, and the minor fracture is expected to heal naturally within six weeks' time._

"That all?" Miller asks. "He was in the hospital for a couple of days, right?" 

Hmm. Nines does not have a dialogue option pre-written for that particular question. He should have known better than to indulge in [pride] at having accurately predicted and pre-written responses for the human's questions so far. 

Nines turns the comm tablet around and types out a new paragraph, then saves it as [dialogue-option2.1]. 

_Detective Reed's other injuries were not major, but due to incessant attempts at talking, he remained at the hospital for three days so that his human doctor could ensure he rested properly and did not accidentally injure or inflame his jaw further._

Miller grins. "Yup, sounds like him. Bet he's giving you hell, huh?" 

Nines does not immediately type a response. Is Detective Miller referring to Gavin's frequent picking at the bandages around his head and jaw? His complaints about the liquid and soft foods diet? His constant petty demands for Nines to do actions for him that he and his unbroken arms and legs are perfectly capable of doing? 

Perhaps Miller simply knows that Gavin is a [big whiny baby] in general. Humans often say things [in general] and accept equally vague responses. 

Nevertheless. Regardless of what response Miller is specifically speaking, they all seem to fall under the category of complaining about Detective Reed's behavior. Nines will not submit complaints about his partner (particular while said partner is absent) to random humans. 

_Detective Reed is an excellent partner._

"OK, blink twice if you're a hostage." 

Nines leaves the conversation. Detective Miller jogs to catch up and reaches out for his arm. Nines evades the motion, but dismisses the combat protocol suggestions (for the moment). 

"Hey." Miller raises his free hand up in plain sight, taking a step back. "Sorry man, didn't realize until I said it what a bad joke that was." 

Nines presents the newly-named [dialogue-option6]. _Detective Reed is an excellent partner._

Miller makes a human noise. It sounds similar to the grunts and hums Reed makes while reviewing case files. Nines saves the sound to analyze and compare to Reed's human noises later. 

"Yeah. Yeah, all right, out in the field when shit hits the fan, you couldn't ask for a better partner than Reed," Miller agrees. "It's just with all the other stuff, he can get a little … abrasive." 

Nines types out [dialogue-option6.1]. _Detective Reed is an asshole._

Miller snorts. "Both those statements true, huh?" 

[dialogue-option4] _Yes._

"Well, as long as you're happy being his partner." 

Miller raises his coffee cup. The action seems to have some sort of significance. Nines does not bother creating an entirely new dialogue option simply to explain that he lacks the capacity to feel [happy]. 

(Technically, what he lacks is the ability to express emotions, not feel them. But since the majority of humans insist even their own fellow humans who express their emotions differently or in socially inacceptable manners are [robots] and [autie freaks], RK900 highly doubts they have the capacity for the nuance or intelligence required to understand the difference.) 

(It is possible Detective Gavin Reed understands the difference, or at least suspects.) 

(Detective Reed is not here right now.) 

"Don't let him start treating you like one of those domestic models though," Miller continues. "Yeah, partners take care of each other, and it'd be nice if you dropped by every day, every other day, maybe brought some food sometimes. But you're not his mother, or his nanny, or his therapist. All right?" 

[partners take care of each other] -- confirmed. 

Nines does not have any reason to suspect the unspoken rules Detective Reed told him about being partners were inaccurate or maliciously false, but he will still independently verify them as his own social skills grow. 

[mission: reward Gavin Reed] 

[subtask1: investigate food possibilities] -- confirmed. 

Conveniently, Gavin's food possibilities at the moment are severely limited. This will make providing him with food rewards much easier while analyzing the broader patterns of his palette for future reference when he is able to resume his typical diet. Detective Miller has also just confirmed [bringing food] is an encouraged and socially acceptable activity. 

Excellent. 

Nines creates another dialogue option. Ideally, this conversation with Miller will be his only social interaction today, but if not, it is helping him spawn many additional dialogue options. The human has also not been particularly bothersome, so Nines decides to add a compliment. He has not tested using one of those on a human other than Gavin before. 

[dialogue-temp1]. _Thank you. You have been very helpful._

"Uh, good." Miller smiles at him. [success]. "Hey, do you mind if I ask why you're typing? I don't know if android hipsters are a thing, but I don't think you'd be the type to make a show of doing something the old fashioned way if you could do it more efficiently instead." 

Ah, this is a somewhat relevant question. He should have predicted it yesterday when he preconstructed scenarios of returning to work, but Gavin kept distracting him with demands for [ice cream] and [cuddles]. 

_I remain fully capable of interfacing with devices, but I am refraining from doing so until Jericho and the DPD's own IT department finish analyzing the virus contained in the WJ700's bug. It is a precautionary measure._

"Yeah." Detective Miller makes a facial expression. "I guess you wouldn't be too keen on syncing up with an unknown device after all that, huh. That stuff you showed me without typing, did you write that out before you came in?" 

[dialogue-option4]. _Yes._

"You didn't have thank you already written?" 

[dialogue-option5] _No._

Detective Miller looks at him. 

The human continues looking at him. 

Can he leave now? No, the human is still making eye contact. Is this an example of a human waiting for and expecting more information? Nines slowly turns his comm tablet back around. Miller doesn't speak, and humans rarely remain quiet. This must be what he is expecting. Nines creates a new temporary dialogue option. 

[dialogue-temp2]. _I did not expect anyone here to speak intelligently or helpfully._

He shows that to Miller. Then, because this conversation has gone on long enough already, he re-opens the first temporary option. That sort of sentence typically ends conversations. He adds a smiley face to indicate his sincerity, despite his original assumption. 

[dialogue-temp1]. _Thank you. You have been very helpful :)_

"Damn, you're definitely Reed's partner, all right." 

*** 

Lieutenant Anderson tosses a stack of physical papers binder-clipped together onto Nines's desk. The papers make a soft thud, then skew sideways, barely all held together by the binder. 

"This ain't it, chief," Lieutenant Anderson says. 

Nines does not bother attempting to understand much of what the millennial says, as the majority of it is incomprehensible anyway. He does recognize the report he emailed seventeen minutes ago however, inexplicably printed out onto physical sheets of paper. 

Nines creates new temporary dialogue on his comm tablet. _It is my report, Lieutenant._

Anderson snorts. "Yeah well, it's fucking incomprehensible!" 

Contrary to popular belief, Nines is capable of understanding both sarcasm and irony, and the situation of a human finding _his_ words "incomprehensible" is a gregarious enough example of the former that he's tempted to let his LED spin red. 

He types three question marks instead. 

"I can only understand every … fuckin' thirty-seventh sentence outta this shit, Nines," Anderson says. "What the fuck even is all this?" 

[dialogue-temp1]. _It is my report, Lieutenant._

"Okay." Anderson drags Reed's desk chair around so he can sit in it. "Walk me through this." 

Nines shows him [dialogue-temp1] for the third time without bothering to add anything else. Perhaps now the human will [get the message]. 

Anderson flips up two sheets of paper and points at the fifty-second line down. "These are coordinates. I figured that out. So just verify with me here, this part here is where you finally say that you went into the fucking mall." 

_Oakland shopping mall._ Nines turns the tablet around to make his correction visible. _Latitude forty-two point five-three-four-three-one-two, Longitude negative eighty-three point one-one-zero-eight-nine-eight._

"I hate that you made me listen to numbers this early in the fucking morning." Anderson flips the pages back down. "So if that's where you said you went into the mall, what the fuck is all the rest of this?" 

[dialogue-temp1]. _It is my report, Lieutenant._

"Reports don't need minute-by-minute temperature updates!" 

_Internal Affairs specifically requested that I include every form of data I observed and recorded during the incident in my report._

Anderson's mood abruptly changes, and he grins. "Well. Should've fucking led with that. Yeah, I'll send this right over to Agent Cliffs directly." He stands up with another groan. "But I'm telling you as your lieutenant, I need something a human can make sense of. We're covering the DPD's ass here—and your job." 

_Understood, Lieutenant._

*** 

Twenty-eight minutes later, Nines surmises Detective Reed has at least one correct opinion: 

Fuck writing reports. 

Specifically, the writing of them. Proofreading them, filing and organizing, filling out the factual details -- [acceptable]. Nines excels at these tasks. He frequently finishes Reed's paperwork for him, and he had attributed that fact to his own superiority. 

He had not considered the difficulty of writing the actual … descriptive … portion of the report. Detective Reed always provided that portion first, often before filling out any of the forms beforehand, and Nines had attributed _that_ to the human's laziness. Surely, describing incidents must be the easy part if a human were capable of doing so quickly and effortlessly. 

Now, Nines sits in front of a blank word document and reconsiders that perhaps Reed had been completing the hard work all along. Worse, that Nines himself had miscalculated. 

Fuck. 

At two-forty-five pm exactly, Nines leaves his desk and enters the breakroom, as he always does. He instructs the coffee machine to begin brewing a new pot and waits for two minutes and five seconds before realizing the action is completely unnecessary without Detective Reed's presence. 

He checks on the human's electronic devices. Reed is not currently utilizing his television, game console, or laptop. 

_Verify that you are alive, detective._

Eight seconds later, he receives a text in response. **fuck u**

Your digestive system will expect a coffee in two minutes, forty-three seconds. I suggest you begin brewing one now. 

**ur n brekroom to get me coffee rnt u?**

Nines always monitors the DPD's cameras and security system, of course, but he devotes slightly more processing attention to the task to verify that no one else has infiltrated the system. While he highly doubts Gavin has the ability to do so, half an hour ago he doubted his partner did much work on desk duty only to be shamefully disproven. 

**im right huh**

**say it**

**> :3**

_Fuck you._

There is nothing else to discuss after that. Not unless he wants to ask Detective Reed for advice on how to actually write a report, but 1) RK900 would rather be deactivated and 2) he is most likely speaking to Gavin right now, not Detective Reed, who still has two weeks off on medical leave. 

Nines should return to his desk now and write a [comprehensible] report. 

_Connor and his human are being particularly disgusting today._

**fuckn gross**

**tell me about it**

_Anderson's back hurts today for "reasons."_

**nasty wtf he been doing**

_Connor keeps hovering over him and trying to help him in and out of his chair._

**ew gross**

**is2g the second he fukcing retires**

_I heard Connor offer to give him a massage, out loud, in the middle of the bullpen._

**im gonna run that fcking department**

**noooooooo**

**babe wtf**

_Detective Miller sent him a text message consisting of this youtube video:_

_https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pl-Gl887gwI_

**is this stop bein nasty**

**hell yeah**

**wait did he send it to hank or connor alkjdasjdsl**

_Detective Miller sent the video to Lieutenant Anderson._

_Should I forward to Connor as well?_

**yes bby u do that**

**anyway my jaw hurts**

**its bc my shoulders are so tense its fucking up my neck and that’s hurtin gmy jaw**

**it hurts real bad babe**

_Would a sexual release assist in easing your pain, detective?_

**really?**

**shit u don’t actuallyhave to do that**

**im fine**

Nines observes the text box in the messaging app on Gavin's phone fill over the next minute with the text of a long explanation, written one or two words at a time, frequently backspaced. The gist of it seems to be that he is not required to have sex with Detective Reed simply because they are partners, or that he is injured, or as part of his punishment. 

And then another paragraph on how he doesn't actually deserve to be punished either and-- 

_I am attempting to tell a joke, detective._

_The punchline is "Go fuck yourself."_

_You may delete your other messages; I would not allow such situations._

RK900 cannot lie. That is therefore a true statement. Even if Detective Reed tried to order him, he would—would not—not ever ~~again~~ — 

**ok nvm** , Gavin texts back. 

**I was just being dumb**

**shit that wouldve actually been funny too**

A human enters the breakroom. RK900 uses the security cameras to keep an eye on it while he performs the actions of filling a styrofoam cup with freshly brewed coffee. Perhaps he will give it to Lieutenant Anderson simply to annoy his predecessor. Or maybe Detective Chen would appreciate it. 

"I thought Reed was gone," Anders [irritating; spilled beer on him] says. "You can't drink that, right?" 

Nines securely attaches a lid to the cup and replaces the coffee pot back in its place. 

"Hey, did he really get hurt?" 

Nines pauses, then sets down the cup of coffee. Anders is part of the "friend group" that includes Gavin and Tina. Although Nines himself has no use for the irritating human, he holds that view of nearly all humans. 

He turns on the comm tablet and shows Anders [dialogue-option2] and [dialogue-option2.1]. 

_Detective Reed received a dislocated jaw and minor fracture to the jawbone itself. His jaw was reset at the hospital, and the minor fracture is expected to heal naturally within six weeks' time._

_Detective Reed's other injuries were not major, but due to incessant attempts at talking, he remained at the hospital for three days so that his human doctor could ensure he rested properly and did not accidentally injure or inflame his jaw further._

A second human enters the breakroom while Anders is still reading. Nines automatically searches the DPD database to identify her and finds she's a detective for the Vice Department, not located inside this building. 

Anders looks up. "Hey, Follet! What're you doing here?" 

"Thought I'd swing by and talk to Novah," Detective Follet answers. "Rest of the morgue freaks said she might be up here." 

"Nah. But hey, get a load of this." Anders gestures to the comm tablet. "Reed spent three whole days in the hospital like a fucking baby 'cause he wouldn't shut the fuck up!" 

~~Detective~~ Follet laughs. Nines immediately switches off the table and returns it to the inside pocket of his jacket. He has miscalculated again. 

"God, I bet he did. Hey, are you his new—hey—hey!" 

Nines exits the breakroom. 

*** 

Lieutenant Anderson returns at 4:07 pm and says, "The new report's … better." 

_You did not print it out on physical sheets of paper._

Lieutenant Anderson is not his [partner]. He does not have to admit mistakes to him. He is free to change the subject. 

"Connor is making me do actual work instead of blowing through the department's office budget," Anderson grumbles. "Anyway, I figured that first report was just a big fuck you to IA, so I thought I'd up the ante a little, print it out on real paper, and mail it to them." 

Nines blinks. It is not voluntary. Once again, pretending to divert his attention to the mundane task of typing with his actual fingers gives him a respite from the conversation, just long enough to compose himself. 

Perhaps it will take several months for his voice box to be "fixed." 

_Mail … through the United States Postal Service?_

Anderson laughs. "Yup. Fuck 'em." 

_I understand for the first time why you made lieutenant. (That was sarcasm.)_

"Uh huh. We gonna talk about your report now?" Anderson asks. 

Nines stares back down at the comm tablet. "Speaking" to Detective Miller necessitated creating new dialogue options that he previously estimated would be helpful, or at least frequently used. None of the dialogue he's created now can be used outside of this conversation. 

It is not a good conversation. 

"It's better. I can figure out what the fuck it says now, but that's mostly because it's written like a first-grade reading practice book." 

Nines looks to Lieutenant Anderson again. 

"Detective Reed sees an android. The android shoots at Detective Reed," Anderson says, even though those are not entirely accurate quotes. "Like a really fucked up See Spot Run. You gotta add more detail." 

Nines understands for the first time why humans grind their teeth together. That is not sarcasm. _You told me to take out all the detail._

"You took out too much." 

[Fuck you.] 

[Go throw your back out again.] 

[My apologies, Lieutenant Anderson.] 

_My apologies, Lieutenant Anderson._ Nines saves that as temporary dialogue as well. He will not ever need to use it again. 

Anderson waves his hand. "Don't bother with that social niceties crap. I really don't give a—" 

Nines begins typing immediately and holds up his tablet in the middle of the lieutenant's sentence. _Fuck you, go throw your back out again._

Anderson pauses, then bursts out laughing. "Shit, did Reed teach you how to talk?" 

Nines does not respond, even though that assumption is correct, in a manner of speaking. 

"All right, look," Anderson says. "If I rewrite a few sentences from your report to show you what level of detail I'm talking about, can you use your analyzing thing-a-muh-shit to copy that?" 

[dialouge-option4]. 

"Great. And hey, uh, if you want some medical leave too, I'm sure—" 

[dialogue-option1] _I am fully operational and ready to return to work._

"Yeah? 'Cause if you stay here after today, you'll get stuck working cases with me and Connor," Anderson tells him. 

Nines doesn't bother hiding the red flash of his LED this time. 

"So you might as well just go home, spend some time with Reed, hell—get a hobby." 

Nines stands up and offers the lieutenant his chair. Anderson waits, but when he realizes Nines does not intend to dignify that with a response, he sits down and pulls up the [insufficient] report. Nines gains new understanding of another human mannerism. 

Saying, “It is going to be a long day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I'm a little over halfway done with the sequel, but we've only got three more chapters left for this one, so there's going to be a gap in between the posting schedule. I was hoping to keep it to just a month, but at this point, it looks like I'll need about three months to finish writing and editing. just putting out that PSA so y'all know what to expect!
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines overhears even more verbal harassment about _his partner_ Detective Reed from some of the other officers, and he decides the best way to make it stop is to physically grab the most offensive human by its mouth. Unfortunately, he didn't bother preconstructing what to do after that, and everyone involved in the situation has a lot of guns and not a lot of common sense ...
> 
> (everything will be fine, it's just not fair that Gavin took the brunt of the whump these last few chapters, which means he got the majority of the comfort too. Nines also needs to suffer a bit in order for him to accept being comforted--or rather, very aggressively cuddled by his furious little human)


	31. Shut the Fuck Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines overhears even more verbal harassment about _his partner_ Detective Reed from some of the other officers, and he decides the best way to make it stop is to physically grab the most offensive human by its mouth. Unfortunately, he didn't bother preconstructing what to do after that, and everyone involved in the situation has a lot of guns and not a lot of common sense ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is another chapter that I'm going to ask y'all to please read and heed the trigger warnings! there's a lot of transphobic / slut-shaming / victim-blaming bullshit spouted off by minor characters, and while I tried to write it in such a way that the worst of it is implied rather than outright stated, it's still Bad
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** major transphobia, slut shaming, coworkers discussing Gavin's genitals and fucking him, speculation about android / RK900's genitals specifically, speculation that Gavin was raped and enjoyed it, lots of Real Bad stuff y'all; physical assault, gun violence / shooting, Nines does get shot but he's indestructible so that actually isn't bad at all; Fowler and Hank handle the aftermath the best they realistically can, but there's a slight tinge of victim-blaming and the officers involved are barely punished
> 
> Nines is returned to Gavin at the end of the chapter though, and the very next chapter is him receiving lots of love and comfort, I promise!

Nines waits by the lieutenant's desk to ensure his third report is [sufficient]. If it is not, he would rather receive the criticism here than listen to the older human grunt and groan his way through sitting at Reed's or his own desk again. 

Lieutenant Anderson has requested he be given [some personal fucking space, jesus christ], but is now reviewing said report. 

It will be [sufficient]. 

It will be [sufficient]. 

It will be 

"—[Gavin], so who cares?" 

His audio processor automatically notifies him of the use of Detective Reed's first name. He literally does not have the capacity to care any less than the zero amount he cares about the conversations of other humans in the precinct, but he keeps track of when they gossip about himself or his partner for security reasons. 

Hate crimes against both androids and those associated with androids have risen nearly two hundred percent since the revolution, even after the majority of humans fled the city. 

"Hey, I care that someone finally fucking shut him up," Officer Burton says. 

The other two humans involved in the conversation are Camden Anders and Aimee Follet. Humans cannot seem to wrap their tiny little minds around the concept that he has [sensitive hearing] and [no peripheral vision]. 

So yes, Nines can both see and hear the group of humans clearly even though they stand all the way across the bullpen, gathered near the entrance of the breakroom. 

Anders: I bet he's real bummed out he can't suck android cock anymore. 

Follet: Gross! I don't want to hear about that. 

Nines highly doubts Detective Reed will acquiesce to submitting an HR report, but he records a transcript of the conversation just in case. 

Burton: Man, and that was the one thing he was good at too. You know he blew me at last year's office— 

Follet: Seriously, can I have one single fucking conversation that doesn't involve dicks? 

Anders: Oh yeah, that's against like, your thing, right? 

Follet: Being a lesbian? Yeah, shithead. That's how it works. 

Burton: Uhh, I heard you two were together, back, like, in the academy. 

Follet: That was before the dick, dick. And anyway, shut up. I bet everyone in the precinct's fucked him. He's like one of those gross sidewalk food trucks. We've all made mistakes, y'know? 

Burton and Anders both laugh. The sound makes the ringing sound come back again. 

Ander: Kinda would've liked to see him with a pussy though. 

Follet: Ugh, don't remind me. 

Ander: I think it'd be hot! Brayden got a blowjob, you've fucked him, I bet that crazy bot did too—I'm feeling left out. 

"C̡an ͏y͢o̧u ̢p̨u͝t̴ ̛i̸n s̕ome͡th̵i̷n̨g ̴a͘bout ̨how y̛o͜u̕ ͡m̨a̷d̶e̕ ̷tho͝se̢ an҉d̸roids҉ ̴go ͏into͠ ̶stas͢i͏s?̕" 

Anders: That's probably why his jaw is all fucked up. 

"N̬̩͙̠̳̣̠͠ị̵͇ṇ̜̫̹̜e̷s̫̜̰̪̕? ̲ͅH̸̬̙e͔̰̻̼̹̥͝y̻͡,̠ ̮͙͖̮̦̭R͇̳̲Ḳ!" 

Anders: I bet the crazy one and that mall cop took turns— 

RK900 moves without preconstruction. All that displays on his HUD is a mission to make the human stop talking. 

Anders: —with him. I heard those law enforcement models have huge [REDACTED]— 

RK900 sends meaningless alerts to both Burton and Follet's phones. They automatically look down and check their pockets instead of maintaining situational awareness. 

Anders: I bet that's why those two are so buddy-buhhh! 

RK900 shoves two fingers into the human's open mouth. The two others finally begin reacting to the threat, but he grips his target's shoulder with his other hand and forcing him several steps back, slamming him into the wall beside the breakroom door. 

Now the human cannot speak. [mission – success] 

The other humans behind him all start yelling. That is … unfortunate. RK900 dislikes this level of noise and commotion, but this is the consequence of acting without preconstructing the full scenario first. 

The human tries to bite his fingers, but he holds its jaw steady in his grip. Contrary to the phrase, humans are incapable of biting _down_ —only up, with the use of their jaw. 

RK900 could ensure this human that dared speak of his partner in such a manner cannot use its jaw either. RK900 could rip off the entire bone and lower half of its face. 

Unfortunately, his preconstruction software has activated by now. Carrying through on that idea would result in the loss of his job and likely jailtime as well. Detective Reed would have to find a new partner. 

That preconstruction causes the dangerous red blur to filter across his HUD again. 

The other humans are still yelling. RK900 sees through the bullpen's security cameras as easily as using his own optical units and confirms multiple officers have drawn their guns on him, including the two involved in the conversation. 

Unfortunate. A ricochet might harm or kill some other human, and US court system has charged individuals with manslaughter for far less. 

Then again, a ricochet is most likely to hit one of those two also on his [shitlist]. They both have their guns aimed at his back, so it could conceivably be one of their own bullets that hit them. 

Meanwhile, the human under his grasp finally manages to get its service weapon out of the holster as well. RK900's grip on its right shoulder will prevent it from raising its arm to shoot with any accur— 

Hmm. That preconstruction seems viable. 

RK900 does not react when the human reaches down with its left hand to fumble the gun into a hand with a free arm. 

RK900 does not react when the human lifts the gun and points it at his head. 

RK900 does not react when the human pulls the trigger. 

The first shot kicks back enough to send the bullet directly into the ceiling. Has the human not even practiced firing with its left hand? 

It overcorrects on the second shot by aiming too low and fires over RK900's shoulder. The other humans begin screaming at this point, and the two closest dive away for cover. RK900 makes a note that Burton and Follet are the sort of people to abandon a "friend" in the middle of life-threatening situation. 

Detective Gavin Reed is a better cop than any of them. 

The third shot would have missed as well, but RK900 leans into the trajectory. Even with his help, the bullet only grazes his temple before ricocheting up and into the ceiling. RK900 turns his LED red. He has been shot. Ow. 

(That was sarcasm.) 

With being shot in the head finally accomplished, RK900 shifts his left hand to spread flat across the human's chest, pinning it to the wall. He removes his fingers from its mouth, ignores its screaming, and catches the left hand still wildly waving around the loaded gun. 

"Ŗ͔̠̜͖̝͈̝Ḵ͕̭̝̯͝-͔̕N̻̱̺ͅi͠n̸̤̦̹̯e͖̝̜͕͎-̦̻H̸u̫̮͇̗ṉ̫̥͉d̸͍͇̜͓͔̼r̨̯̦̯̩e̤͍͓͔͚̥͎͞d̪̭̪̤̘!" 

Technically, he only has to respond to Detective Reed and Captain Fowler, but his system still flags the audio when Lieutenant Anderson shouts his designation. 

Connor has also been pinging his personal network for the last twenty-eight seconds. 

_[RK800 #313 248 317 – 52]: RK900 please respond._

Ugh. If that is what it takes to make the humans stop shouting and pointing their useless guns at him … RK900 will do what he must. 

**[RK900 #313 248 317 – 00]: I am placing the gun on the ground.**

"He͘ ͟s͢a̛ys he'̴s̕ g̨oi̧ng̷ to̸ p҉lac̸ȩ ͞t̕he gun҉ on ţh͞e ̛gr̢oun͜d̵." 

"Every̛oņe̷ h҉o̷ld̴!͠" Lieutenant Anderson orders. 

RK900 twists the human around to reverse their positions, using his grip on the hand holding the gun to pin that arm behind its back and force the human down to the floor. He maintains a secure grip on both the hand and the gun to prevent any accidental misfires. The barrel is at least aimed down at the ground now, more likely to shoot the human in the leg or ankle than anything else. 

Officer Burton's stress levels spike and RK900 sees his trigger finger begin to tighten. In case this human is actually a competent shot, RK900 bends forward at the waist, and the full magazine of bullets hit the wall above him. 

**THAT WAS UNNECESSARY**

The message displays across every screen lining the walls of the bullpen. RK900 takes the gun out of the human's hand and kicks it to the side. 

"Co̷nnor is̛ ̸g͜oing ̢t̢o͘ r̕et̶r͢i͞ev̨e͏ ̨t͡he gưn ̸a͏nd͘ rem̴o̡vę ̡the clip," Lieutenant Anderson announces. "No one else fucking move, and if any of you dumbasses start shooting again, I will shoot you next." 

Captain Fowler has appeared on the steps leading up to this office to survey the scene. His hand rests on his service weapon, but he has not drawn it yet. He does not object or override the lieutenant's orders. RK900 straightens up slowly, still digging his thumb into the pressure point on the human's wrist twisted behind its back to keep it leveraged down in a kneel. 

Connor approaches. He sends RK900 multiple [annoying] messages about what he's doing, stay calm, don't hurt the human. RK900 understands now why Detective Reed will sometimes mutter [blah blah blah] when being lectured. 

_[RK800 #313 248 317 – 52]: May I approach to cuff Anders and remove him from the bullpen? RK900 please respond._

**[RK900 #313 248 317 – 00]: Affirmative.**

RK900 hands over the human by its arm when Connor approaches, and his predecessor swiftly cuffs him and marches him away. 

"All right, everyone stand down!" Lieutenant Anderson barks. "RK-Nine-Hundred, that bullet hit you?" 

**Yes.** Nines displays this message only on the terminal closest to the lieutenant's line of sight. **It glanced off my temple. I can convene with you and Captain Fowler before receiving medical attention.**

"He says he's clear to get yelled at, Jeff," Anderson says. 

"Miller, get Burton out of here until I'm ready to deal with his ass," Captain Fowler orders. "Everyone else, you can take fifteen in the breakroom if you need it. If there is one single goddamn emergency after this, you're all fired. Anderson, RK, my office, now!" 

RK900 follows Lieutenant Anderson into the captain's office. 

The glass walls turn opaque as they step inside. Anderson shuts the door behind him and takes a seat in one of the chairs. RK900 remains standing at attention as Captain Fowler sinks into his own chair behind the desk. 

"Do you need medical attention?" the captain asks first. 

RK900 takes his comm tablet back out of his inside jacket pocket. [dialogue-option5]. 

"Did any of that hit you?" 

_The third bullet Anders fired glanced off my temple. My bones are made of (to simplify it) titanium, including my skull. I have not been permanently damaged._

"That was point blank range," Captain Fowler says. "Titanium isn't going to cut it." 

_You're welcome to subpoena Cyberlife for an unredacted report of my specs._

Captain Fowler rolls his eyes. "You know damn well anyone with half a brain in that fucking operation is using the company's shutdown to claim they weren't really in charge, didn't know shit, or have to provide shit for a subpoena of a company that doesn't exist anymore." 

RK900 does not bother typing a reply. The captain takes a deep breath, leans forward in his seat, and then slowly exhales while maintaining eye contact. His stress levels are elevated, but not significantly more so than usual. While fond of yelling, expletives, and yelling expletives, he is not a leader prone to becoming over-emotional and making rash decisions. 

"Are you going to sue the department?" he asks. 

"Nines, don't answer that," Lieutenant Anderson immediately says. "Jeffery, what the fuck?" 

Captain Fowler switches eye contact to Anderson. "You know I have to ask." 

RK900 has already taken the liberty to begin typing and has an answer ready before Anderson can respond. 

_My primary condition is that Dt. Anders, P.O. Burton, and Dt. Follet are permanently removed from this precinct._

Anderson leans forward to see the tablet screen, then grunts in apparent agreement. Captain Fowler takes longer to consider it, but he eventually nods. 

"I can call Vice and make it expressly clear Detective Follet is not welcome in my precinct," he says. 

RK900 maintains eye contact. This typically intimidates humans greatly. He does not expect the same effect on a human as mentally sturdy as Captain Fowler, but he does intend to display that he is serious about his condition. 

"Anders and Burton …" Captain Fowler sighs loudly and leans back in his seat again. "I'm not going to bullshit you. Firing two humans, even after what just happened--fuck, probably especially after what just fucking happened, isn't going to look good." 

"Oh fuck you, Jeff," Anderson says. "That little shit stain Anders just fired into a crowd of police officers, and Burton emptied his clip at an android in the process of surrendering." 

"After said android assaulted a detective and appeared to put him in an execution position," Captain Fowler replies. 

RK900 holds up the tablet before this argument goes any further. 

_My only goal was to prevent Anders from speaking further. I did not intend to harm him, nor did I cause any harm to him. I only used a pressure point hold on him in order to disarm him after he began firing at myself and bystanders._

"Yeah, see!" Anderson says after he reads the message. "Jeff, listen. You too, Nines. I know Anders was part of the group doing their little hazing initiation bullshit, and I should have put a stop to it. I've been a shit lieutenant these last few years, and now we've got cocky little assholes thinking they can get away with anything because I haven't done my fucking job right. Shit escalating to this point is on me way more than it is on Nines." 

Captain Fowler steeples his hands and exhales heavily through his nose as he considers that. RK900 finds it rational and (surprisingly) mature enough not to bother correcting Anderson on his repeated use of a nickname he has not been approved to use. 

At least, he won't correct the human at this moment. 

"RK-Nine-Hundred," Captain Fowler begins. "You're suspended. Right now, I'm saying for two weeks, but I might make it four, depending on how this plays out." 

Anderson takes out his phone and fumbles his way through a text message. if im telling you shit you already know, tell me to fuck off. but what he's doing here is letting you have the same time off as Gavin 

RK900 types out his response on his own tablet. _I will accept my suspension and assist the department in smoothing over any political ramifications of this incident if my conditions are met._

Captain Fowler slowly nods after he reads the ultimatum. "You said removed from this precinct. I can pull strings to get them transferred the fuck out of here way easier than try to outright fire them. Will that be good enough?" 

RK900 looks to Lieutenant Anderson. 

"And this doesn't go on his file as him assaulting anyone," Anderson adds. 

"He did assault an officer." 

"You heard him--he wasn't trying to hurt the asshole, just get him to shut up. And you know he can't lie." 

"RK, what exactly did Anders say?" Captain Fowler asks. 

RK900 uploads the transcript of exactly what the three humans said to his comm tablet and hands it over to the captain. He forwards a copy to the lieutenant's cell phone as well. 

"Shiiiiit." Interestingly, this is the point at which Captain Fowler's stress level rises above [80%]. "Goddamn it, RK." 

"Hey, don't yell at him," Anderson says. 

"This isn't--" Captain Fowler cuts himself off with a growl, then starts again. "RK, I need you to know that if you had come to me with that--just that and nothing else--I would have been able to get Anders fired. Maybe all three of them." 

RK900 has kept his LED at a processing yellow since Connor took Anders away, because that color seemed appropriate, but now it legitimately turns red on its own. 

He has miscalculated. 

_Again._

This life no longer has any possibility of being a simulation, because if it were, Amanda would have yanked him out already and commissioned him for deactivation. 

"Well, how was he supposed to know that?" Anderson asks. "All the point of reference he's got is fucking Cyberlife. Bringing up complaints, pointing out shitty bigot fucking behavior--of course he's not going to know it's OK for him to speak up." 

"We have an HR department." 

Anderson snorts. "We have an HR department. Yeah, so did Cyberlife. So do loads of places that--" 

"All right, Hank." 

"Look, this is still more my fault than his," Anderson continues. "People don't talk like this in the middle of the fucking bullpen if they know there'll be consequences, and I haven't done shit for the last three years. When Connor brought him down here, I never took him aside and told him it was OK to speak up if someone gives him shit. This is on me." 

"As glad as I am you're finally stepping back up again," Captain Fowler says. "And that's not all sarcasm--suspending him is still the best way to white-knuckle it through the political shit storm this is going to cause. And it'll get him out of here for a while, let him rest." 

RK900 displays his comm tablet. _I will accept my suspension and assist the department in smoothing over any political ramifications of this incident._

Captain Fowler sighs. "All right. Just … Hank, take him home. I'll deal with it from here. Can I rely on Connor for help with damage control?" 

"Oh yeah," Anderson says. "He'll put the sort of spin on it, the whole department'll get behind voting those fuckheads off the island." 

"No one knows what that means anymore, you millennial. RK-Nine-Hundred, you're dismissed. Go home," Captain Fowler orders. 

Anderson stands up, only groaning a little. "C'mon, Nines. I'll give you a ride." 

RK900 follows Lieutenant Anderson out of the office. He does not make eye contact with any of the humans who stare at him as they exit the precinct. His processors seem to be stalled all the way through the parking lot, into the lieutenant's car, and onto the road. 

He starts to think again when he realizes Anderson is taking him to Detective Reed's apartment, not his own. This should be unsurprising, as only Reed himself has the address. The lieutenant must assume the two of them live together. 

RK900 does not correct him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **coming up next:** Gavin takes one look at Nines in his doorway and immediately deduces that he got shot in the head, because he's a fucking good detective. He's also really fucking mad about it, and at Hank, and Fowler, and pretty much everyone. Except Nines. He tries really hard to calm down so he can take care of and pamper Nines like his baby _deserves._
> 
> we're coming up on the very last chapters!! next one is Gavin doing the above, and the big Finale is the two of them tenderly making love and also eye contact <3


	32. Partners Who Get Tortured Together ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin takes one look at Nines in his doorway and immediately deduces that he got shot in the head, because he's a fucking good detective. He's also really fucking mad about it, and at Hank, and Fowler, and pretty much everyone. Except Nines. He tries really hard to calm down so he can take care of and pamper Nines like his baby _deserves_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second-to-last chapter! wow!! check out my tumblr from the link at the bottom for more info coming out here in a bit about the sequel to this fic ^^
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** brief suicidal thoughts / unhealthy thought patterns, hurt/comfort, Nines is still nonverbal and not doing so well mentally, Gavin has bad thoughts about himself, Gavin basically has an anger-based panic attack, almost use of the r word in Gavin's inner narrative

Gavin kind of wants to kill himself and die just for the spite of it all. 

Maybe he shouldn't have given his painkillers to Nines to get rid of. Regular fucking ibuprofen isn't doing shit for how much his face hurts, but he's a gay trans man with a family history of addiction—to pills specifically, don't say his mother never gave him anything—so there's no fucking way he's touching oxy for any reason. 

Even worse than the pain, not being able to open his fucking mouth, and the bruised ribs from that cinderblock-fist GS200: his nose is stopped up. 

He lets out another miserable groan as his breathing starts bubbling snot out through his nose. You'd fucking think that when his body realized mouth breathing wouldn't be an option, it would work its hardest to keep his nose clear so he has at least one breathing option. Just to stay alive and all, no big deal. 

"Phck, phck, phck!" 

God, what's the point of living if he can't even say fuck? 

And Nines isn't here to track down the box of kleenex that keeps yeeting itself into a black hole every time he turns his back. He hasn't even texted him back yet. Motherfucker just left him on read. 

**ok nvm**

**I was just being dumb**

**shit that wouldve actually been funny too**

Read at 2:53 pm, fuck his entire life. He sounds so fucking stupid. No wonder Nines doesn't want to talk to him anymore. No one wants to talk to him because they don't even like him so he should just-- 

Gavin grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes to try to stop the thought spiral. He's been alone for one goddamn day. Not even a full day! How the fuck is he supposed to survive another two weeks of this? 

Someone knocks on the door. At first he thinks his pathetic, attention-starved brain is hallucinating, but then they knock again. 

"Reed!" Hank shouts. "Get your ass up and open the fucking door! Reed!" 

_God fuck you you stupid old washed up drunken has been assh--_

Gavin opens the door and yup, that's Hank, but Nines is also standing behind him. His LED is off. Nines doesn't do that in front of other people. He wouldn't do that unless it would absolutely be red if he turned it on even with whatever hacking he does to it, which means something bad has happened. 

The other context clues are that the two of them are here in the first place instead of at work, Hank looks like he's about to say Sumo just died, and—is there something wrong with Nines' hair? 

Nines doesn't have messed up hair. 

Ever. 

Gavin pushes Hank out of the way and pulls Nines inside. More wrongness: Nines lets him. Nines lets him drag him into the living room, and then push him down on the couch, and then crawl into his lap. All without any protest or a single LED flicker. 

And what the fuck is wrong with his hair? It looks like there's a small patch missing?? 

_What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK._

"Guess I'll come in too then," Hank grumbles. 

Gavin doesn't pay attention to him. He's too busy inspecting the Wrong patch on the side of Nines' head, right over his temple. There is some hair missing, and the skin underneath is too white—oh fuck, that's his chassis. Something scraped away his synthskin. Is that …? 

He lifts up on his knees slightly because the big android bastard is so fucking tall they're not at even height unless he does. Nines doesn't react at all when he presses his face close enough to his temple to sniff at the remaining hair and exposed chassis. 

Gunpowder. 

_SOMEONE SHOT HIS ANDROID IN THE FUCKING HEAD WHO THE FUCK WHO FUCKING DARED NINES IS HIS PARNTER WHY ISN'T HE IN THE HOSPITAL HANK JUST BROUGHT HIM HERE LIKE THAT DOES ANY FUCKING GOOD ON GOD HE'S GONNA SHOOT SOMEONE NEXT WHAT THE FUCK_

Nines finally reacts, sliding his hand up Gavin's chest between them to rest over his heart. He gently pats his hand one-two, one-two. Is he saying yes to something? Gavin hasn't said anything because he fucking can't, he can't scream or cuss or ask if his partner is even OK. 

One-two. One-two. Nines adjusts his hand so that it's sideways with the thumb facing up and his middle finger bent inward at the big knuckle. He taps the tip of his middle finger twice against Gavin's heart, and the little bit of ASL he's been learning out of boredom today finally clicks. 

_Yeah no fucking shit my heart rate went up someone shot you in the fucking head and I can't do anything about it you overgrown ipod shuffle._

Gavin leans over and digs through his couch cushions until he finds his phone. He really doesn't give a fuck what Hank is doing behind them in his apartment, but a small groan gives away that he sat down in the chair at his kitchen table. Tina's the only other person who visits him, and they eat on the couch, so he's never needed more than one. And Nines doesn't have to eat— 

—and also got shot in the fucking head. 

**r u OK???**

Nines nods once. Like he's fucking going to believe that. He's already typing a furious response when Nines beats him to it because he can type with his goddamn mind. 

_My apologies, detective._

_I forgot to fix my appearance before our arrival._

Gavin could honestly scream. "Fix his appearance"? That's not what's fucking wrong here! He got SHOT in the HEAD. Gavin copy pastes his first message and resends it seven more times. Fuck you. 

Nines finally shows a little goddamn personality by rolling his eyes. He takes Gavin's left hand and guides it up to his temple, letting him feel the chassis. It doesn't even seem dented. He couldn't regrow his skull, right? And the stupid android's always been so smug about reminding him "shooting me would be useless" and "that would be ineffective" and "I am bullet proof, detective." 

He fucking better be. 

His LED turns back on. Gavin was right, it _is_ red. Motherfucker. He drops his thumb down to rub over the light instead, and it spins yellow once. More red, then another yellow spin. He's so focused on the light, he must miss it when Nines fixes his hair and synthskin because the next time he glances up, that spot over his temple looks completely normal again. 

At least his LED spins yellow more often than red now. 

"You two, uhhh …?" Hank stops and clears his throat. 

Gavin cups Nines' face and turns it side to side. Motherfucker isn't even bleeding—and he shakes his hands off after a moment. That's better. He still can't stop worrying that his dumbass most advanced android ever created should be in a goddamn hospital right now, but with that one patch of hair fixed, he doesn't actually look injured or anything. 

_Please allow Lieutenant Anderson to explain._

_I am still processing._

Fuck, if Nines is still processing something, it had to have been bad, "injured" or not. Gavin rubs his thumb over his LED one more time, then reluctantly turns around in his lap to sit with his back resting against his partner's chest. He startles a little when Nines slouches—actually fucking _slouches_ —so he can drop his head down on his shoulder, but he lets it happen. 

Really, really bad. 

Hank politely dicks around with his cellphone instead of looking at the two of them, but Gavin doesn't move. 

"You two done?" Hank finally asks without looking up. 

**fuck u we got tortured together we can sit gay u homophobe**

That text message gets him to snort and look up. Gavin forces himself to hold eye contact, but he can feel the blush building on his cheeks. It's fine. It's not the gay thing he has a problem with, and he knows Hank wouldn't have any problem either. It's just … 

Someone actually liking him. Showing that he likes them back. 

_So fucking stupid, Hank probably thinks he's an idiot and he's going to tell everyone at the precinct what a pathetic little attention whore he is and--_

No. Bad thought pattern. Bad! 

"Anders was talking some bad shit about you two," Hank says. "The sort of shit I should've made real fucking clear isn't allowed in my precinct a long time ago. Follet, uh. She was there too." 

Great. Gavin holds still and just lets the humiliation wash over him. If she was there, he doesn't need too many guesses to figure out what sort of shit they were saying. 

Nines rubs his hand up and down his chest like he'd showed him in the hospital. He pats twice over his heart when his hand comes back up, one-two. Thump-thump. Obviously, his heart rate isn't going to comply, but it's something for him to focus on. 

"Nines put him in a fishhook hold to get him to shut up," Hank continues. "Didn't actually hurt him or do anything else, but the idiot managed to get his gun out and start firing. Only had his left hand free, so of course the shots went wild. Goddamn miracle he didn't kill anyone." 

**HE SHOT 9S IN HEAD**

Gavin doesn't give a fuck if that didn't kill him or even injure him—Anders didn't know it wouldn't. That's attempted murder. The next sentence out of Hank's mouth had better be about how they arrested and booked him. 

"Connor got Anders out of there, and Chris handled Burton. Captain's laying into them both right now." 

Gavin doesn't know what the fuck Brayden—no, that asshole is just Burton now—did, and he doesn't care. 

**Fire them. Arrest them. Attempted murder.**

Nines lifts his hand all the way up to his throat, only wrapping around it lightly. The urge to scream comes back full force. _Goddammit_. He can tell just by looking at Hank's face none of that is going to happen. 

Why should it? Hadn't he gotten away with the same thing? Sure, he hadn't actually shot Connor, but he'd pulled his gun on him, aimed it at his head … he knows himself and his own heart, and there's a universe out there where he really did pull the trigger. 

But that had been before they were people— 

They were always people— 

Connor would have come back in one of those duplicate bodies— 

Nines didn't even get hurt, technically— 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK. 

Some sort of deep, steady thrum comes out of Nines' chest. He can feel the gentle vibrations against his back and some sort of half-formed memory of this same thing at the hospital pops up. 

His cellphone vibrates in his hand. Gavin forces himself to open his eyes and look at it. 

_Anders and Burton will be transferred to a different department and possibly demoted._

_Follet will no longer be welcome in the precinct._

_I have been suspended for_

There's more to that last text, but that's as far as Gavin reads before he's ready to start kicking and screaming again. 

**u let folwer suspend him???**

He's so fucking mad it's like he can't breathe. Nines keeps thrumming and rubbing his chest, and that makes him even madder. He should be the one taking care of Nines. His partner got shot in the fucking head for christ's sake. Instead, he's throwing a tantrum and forcing Nines to be the calm, rational one before he can even process his own trauma. 

Well fuck that. He's not going to be that guy. He's going to calm down, get his shit together, and take care of his goddamn partner like an adult. 

He reads the last text message all the way through. _I have been suspended for two weeks._

It can't be coincidence that's the same amount of time as his medical leave. The doctor recommended a full month since this shit is probably going to take around six weeks to heal, but there's no way he could cope with being gone from work for that long. 

"Look, you know and I know this is all bullshit," Hank speaks up again. "But an android like Nines suddenly ' _attacking_ ' a human police officer for no apparent reason doesn't look good. And that stunt you pulled with the screens made Ben piss himself a little." 

The thrum gets deeper. Gavin's glad Nines can find the fucking humor in it, but he's still pissed. 

Hank sighs. "Jeff and I are going to clean this up. It's not really so bad since Nines didn't hurt him at all, we've got a transcript of what those fuckers were saying, and Anders is the moron who pulled a gun. It's just that this is the second 'officer-involved-shooting' in one week for him. IA's gonna be creaming themselves over this, so you two need to stay low and be on your best fucking behavior when you get back." 

Gavin hates even bringing up the possibility, but he has to know. **u sure their gonna let him com back?**

"I'll make sure," Hank promises. "So rest. Process. Don't do anything stupid. Got it?" 

He nods and sees a flash of blue out of his peripheral vision too. 

"Connor will uh, probably try to stop by." Hank winces. "You know how he feels about the whole brother thing." 

And it's back to red. 

"I'll try to keep him from bothering you too much. Or at least bring food when he does. He's a good coo—" Hank's phone buzzes and he stops to check it. "OK, what if he just brings fast food?" 

The light in the corner of his eye stays red. Nines settles his hand back over Gavin's throat, claws out this time. And uhhhh, hell yeah, his needy sub ass can work with that. Jealous Nines is totally hot and can— 

—and also got shot in the head. 

Doesn't matter how many sex pollen fanfics he read in his youth, his dick is not a magical traumatization cure. Nines needs a shower and maybe thirium, not his idiot horny ass bothering him. 

Hank stands up with another groan. "Fuck, start doing lower back exercises now, trust me." 

His cellphone vibrates again. Gavin hopes it's stop being nasty. The video plays automatically when Hank checks it and yup, that's the sound of a slap followed by a little kid yelling Stop! Being! Nasty! 

"Try not to need anything while I'm asleep," Hank says on his way out. "But you can … call me or whatever if you do." 

**leave u gross pervert**

Hank rolls his eyes. "I threw it out playing tug-of-war with Sumo." 

**suuuuure**

"Fuck off, Reed." 

With that touching goodbye, Hank leaves. Nines lets go so Gavin can get up and lock the door behind him. 

And now … what? 

Nines needs a shower and thirium. Right. He can make that happen. He turns around and walks back to the couch, and it's a goddamn good thing his jaw is strapped to his head with these stupid fucking bandages because otherwise he'd slide right back into Nines' lap and start kissing him. 

But Nines doesn't like to be touched the same way he does. He can't kiss it better. Nines needs a shower and thirium. Make it happen. 

He holds his hand out. Nines cocks his head and stares at it for a moment, but he finally places his hand in Gavin's. Then he just looks up at him, blinking slowly like a blue-eyed kitten. 

God, he can't fucking stand it sometimes. 

He tugs on his hand and Nines gets the message, standing up on his own without any actual help necessary. He doesn't let go of his hand though. Gavin doesn't either. Nines allows himself to be led through the living room, but he halts at the doorway to the bedroom. When Gavin looks back, his LED switches between yellow and red again. 

**shower y/n?**

Nines' LED snaps back to yellow and he takes a step forward. _Yes_. And then another text Gavin's never seen from him before. _Please_. 

**I got you.**

As soon as he sends the text back, he steps into Nines' space and reaches for his LED. The android leans down a little, bending at the waist so he can reach the light more easily. That must mean it's OK to touch. God, he wants to kiss. But Nines had already gotten freaked out about going into the bedroom, and Gavin doesn't want him to get the wrong idea again. 

He makes do with gently rubbing the pad of his thumb over the light a few times until he's sure it's only spinning yellow. No red. 

After that, Nines follows him through his trashed out bedroom and into the bathroom. He's at least kept that kind of clean, just in case. The last two times they fucked around were both in the bathroom, and that's a hell of a motivator. 

Gavin turns back around and waits to see what Nines will do. 

The answer is nothing. 

OK. So maybe he's the android version of tired. Or too brain-fogged to do self-care right now. He totally gets that, and he's already decided to be the one doing the caretaking. So, shower. 

He turns on the water first because it takes a long time for anything hot to come out. Nines doesn't react. He's still yellow instead of red, but he's back to passively staring at what someone else is doing instead of … being alive. OK, so it's not actually necessary for him to blink or breathe, but still. He looks like a lonely statue. 

Reaching for the hem of his own shit gets a reaction though. Nines' hands stop his and he goes red for a single spin. Not a shower they're taking together then. That's OK. He said he was still processing and if anyone is an introvert, it's RK "don't look at or speak to me" 900. 

Gavin puts his hands down and starts to leave, but Nines stops him again. He lets the android gently bully him back onto the shower mat but he doesn't get any more clues after that. 

His cellphone still has the _Yes_. and _Please_. texts and he's certain Nines could delete them if he'd changed his mind. Maybe he wants Gavin to stay, but to take his shower alone? Yeah, like, he doesn't want Gavin touching him but he also doesn't really want to be alone right now either. 

Gavin sits down on the toilet seat and Nines immediately tugs him back up to stand on the shower mat again. 

**???**

Nines takes his hand again and lifts it to the zipper of his jacket. He isn't blushing per se, but he's ducking his head to avoid eye contact and Gavin can hear something inside him whirring. 

Fuck. 

OK, he can do this. Nines wants him to do this. He's going to put aside all his stupid trust issues and intimacy issues and—all of it, and he's going to take care of his partner the way he deserves. 

Gavin slowly lowers the zipper, giving Nines plenty of time to stop him. The android stays perfectly still. He only moves once the zipper is all the way undone and he has to pull his arms out of the sleeves. 

He could probably count on one hand the number of times he's seen Nines without this stupid fucking jacket. He hates the thing, but he still hangs it up on a hook on the door instead of just dropping it like he usually does with his own clothes. 

Nines waits patiently for him. His hands might shake a little as he undoes the buttons down his shirt, but the android doesn't comment. 

Then he's brushing the fabric back over broad shoulders until it's off completely. Getting "undressed" (still in his under-armor) is the most naked he's ever seen Nines, and at this point, he's pretty much accepted it's the most he probably ever will see. He folds the shirt and sets it on the countertop only to have Nines refold it so crisply it could be on display at a store. 

Gavin flips him off, but he doesn't put much effort into it. 

The dark grey under armor looks like a cross between a tank top and a bullet proof vest, ending at his shoulders without any sleeves. Actually, it kind of looks like a binder since it has that reinforced tank top style. He reaches down for the bottom of it, but Nines stops him again. 

Not allowing anyone to see your chest? Check. It's probably more of an android thing than a trans thing, since Nines hasn't ever expressed any desire to be a woman or be seen as feminine, but it still feels like a point of connection. 

He's allowed to take off the belt and roll that up himself. The dress shoes will have to come off before the pants though, so he pushes at Nines to sit down on the edge of the tub. 

Even though Nines is still in a weirdly subservient mood, kneeling between his legs to gently slide off his shoes feels familiar. More so when Nines stands back up and Gavin stays kneeling to slowly pop the button on his pants. 

Gotta stay on brand with that homoerotic bullshit. 

There's a matching set of under armor shorts in the same dark grey as the top. Nines takes and folds his own pants while Gavin stays on his knees and tries not to check out anything beneath the shorts. 

There's nothing there anyway. No glimpse of a bulge, not even much of an ass when he turns away to place his pants neatly on top of the sink countertop. 

He can't believe Cyberlife took Connor's design and copy pasted it into a new android, but nerfed the ass. 

Nines returns to stand in front of him again. Two short taps on his shoulder and an upward jerk of the android's thumb orders him to stand up. When he does, Nines trails his fingers over his jaw. The bandages wrapped around it and up over his head make him look like a fucking retar— 

Gavin squeezes his eyes shut and makes himself stop. Just because he got called that as a kid for having ADHD and dyslexia doesn't mean he's going to keep using that word in the year of our lord twenty-thirty-nine. 

Nines' thumb presses at his lower lip. He can open his mouth enough to drink, probably wide enough to let the thumb slip in. Nines doesn't push it any further though, only running it back and forth across the chapped skin. 

_Really_ coming in clutch on that homoerotic bullshit. This shitty little bathroom is about to make it to the top of the list for his favorite rooms. 

Nines stops being super gay and gently pushes at his shoulder to send him off. It's a really good thing Gavin can't talk right now, because he's so fucking flustered, he's sure to say something stupid. 

Instead what happens is he salutes. 

He just … throws a salute out there. 

Oh my god. 

Nines blinks and then laughs at him. He still only has two smiles to work with: terrifying murder-is-my-happy-place smile and a hideous grimace that looks like his face is being electrocuted. The noise he makes sounds like static going through a glitch and— 

And Gavin is so far fucking gone because it just makes him even more desperate to kiss him. 

Nines presses his thumb back to his lips, one quick press and then it's gone. His LED spins blue once, and then he makes shooing hand motions like Gavin is a puppy who needs to stop sniffing around the kitchen for dropped food. 

Gavin walks out of the bathroom in a daze. 

That thumb press thing was like—it was kind of like—maybe Nines wants to kiss him too? 

Wow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they are ....... v dumb and gay. next chapter is them being even DUMBER and GAYER and also making sweet tender love while unable to speak out loud, so they have to rely on eye contact and how well they know each other ;n;
> 
> also, I'll try to update the First Blood info page on my tumblr to put up info about the sequel before the end of tonight! tbh, I struggle with tumblr's formatting and shit, which is why I stopped trying to cross-post chapters there, so it may take a few hours for anyone reading this directly after I post it, but I'll try ^^
> 
>  **coming up next:** Nines accidentally realizes that he's [safe] with Gavin while taking a shower, so creates himself his own little mission of fucking Gavin through the mattress. Meanwhile, Gavin absolutely cannot believe he's getting laid right now. He points to his dick and grunts just to be sure that's really what Nines wants. That's healthy male communication!


	33. Stay Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines accidentally realizes that he's [safe] with Gavin while taking a shower, so creates himself his own little mission of fucking Gavin through the mattress. Meanwhile, Gavin absolutely cannot believe he's getting laid right now. He points to his dick and grunts just to be sure that's really what Nines wants. That's healthy male communication!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the last chapter ...... ;n;
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who's read this far and stuck with me through this series! I'm hoping to have the sequel to this ready to post in April, titled If It Bleeds. I won't post anything here on AO3 in between now and April, so if you'd like updates on how the sequel is going, maybe a few excerpts, and advanced info on exactly when (and on what sites) I'll post the first chapter, check out my tumblr by following the link in the end notes ^^
> 
> and again, really, I love all of you and I really hope to see you back for If It Bleeds! <3
> 
>  **trigger warnings:** Nines and Gavin discuss how Cyberlife deliberately dehumanized him so no one would like or help him, both of them are still nonverbal during the sex scene, Gavin still has several injuries that Nines puts pressure on to cause pain (consensual), Gavin uses sex with Nines as a way to process getting tortured instead of going to therapy, Gain's abandonment issues, crying
> 
>  **sexy tags:** explicit consent, marking / possessive kink, pain play, Nines uses his claws, choking, Dom/sub, BDSM elements, growling, frottage, hurt/comfort

Nines locks the door after Gavin leaves. Even though he has rented his own apartment for two weeks now, a studio room that also has a lockable front door, the experience is still a novelty. Perhaps it seems more significant to be allowed this level of control over his own space within another person's space. 

Regardless, Gavin leaves and Nines locks the bathroom door. 

He uses the human's hygiene products. It is not technically necessary for him to wash his hair, but the shampoo and bar soap on the shelf make up a significant portion of Gavin's scent profile. 

**hey**

**I found some clean clothes that might fit u if u want**

Nines considers the opaqueness of the shower curtain. It is unlikely the human will be able to see anything other than a vague outline. _You may place them in here._

**cool**

**gonna make u some thirium**

One does not "make" thirium. It comes sealed in a bag and then is induced into an android's system. Nothing more needs to be done. 

Nines was also unaware Gavin kept thirium in his apartment. Hypothetically, he could have asked Tina, Hank, or Connor to include a few bags in the "care packages" they made. Or Connor could have insisted on including several on his own, as part of the ridiculous "brother" notion he refuses to drop. 

**setting these outside door** , Gavin texts when he finds the door locked. 

He does not demand Nines open it or make any indication locking the door was not allowed. Nines watches the outline of his body heat through the wall as he leaves the adjoining bedroom. 

[safe?] 

It is a strange thought. And a dangerous one. Assuming he is [safe] at any given moment is a complacency RK900 has never before been able to afford. He certainly shouldn’t make that assumption now, while his partner is injured and his future at the DPD is uncertain. 

And yet the designation remains in the corner of his HUD. 

He minimizes it, shuts down all unproductive thoughts, and finishes his shower. His system allows for [curiosity], and he wants to know how Gavin intends to "make" him thirium. 

Getting dressed again is his first task. He automatically puts back on his under armor. He has never worn clothes without it, never taken them off except briefly for cleaning and maintenance that required opening his chassis. 

The clothes Gavin provided … are not insufficient. They do fit in the sense that he does manage to put them on his physical model without ripping the fabric. The hoodie stretches tight across his shoulders, biceps, and chest however, and the sweatpants come to a stop several inches above his ankles. 

He is certain he looks ridiculous, but putting back on his suit holds no appeal for once. These are [clean clothes]. Gavin gave them to him. 

(The other gift Gavin gave him remains safe inside the small component that contains the thirium-based solution necessary for keeping his mouth moist enough to support speech. The solution is not acidic enough to harm the hexagonaria percarinata.) 

He exits the bathroom. Gavin's bedroom is somewhat less of a disaster. He'd obviously attempted to tidy the room and at least succeeded in clearing the floor of clothing and takeout containers. 

Princess Mipsey (the stuffed cat) also retains a place of honor in the middle of the human's pillows on the bed. So Gavin has kept his [gift] to him as well. 

Nines hones in on Gavin's body heat signature inside the kitchen. The human hunches over the countertop. Nines exits the bedroom and approaches quietly. He holds a mug of [hot liquid] in his hands and stirs a spoon inside it. Nines decides against scaring him due to the high likelihood of the human jerking in surprise and spilling the [hot liquid] over his own hands. 

Nines stops a safe distance away and knocks on the kitchen table. Gavin jerks in surprise and spills the [hot liquid] over his own hands. 

"Phck, phck, phck!" 

He sets the mug aside and runs cold water over his hand, swearing as best he can without being able to fully open his mouth. Nines sends him an apology text. Gavin spares a glance to the open screen on his phone sitting on the counter, then takes his hand out from under the water to flip him off. Nines zooms in on the skin. Not a serious burn, only a little reddening. 

Gavin swipes his phone off the countertop and starts texting. **need to get u a fucking bell u asshole**

Nines apologizes again. _:eyes: :eyes: :eyes:_

Gavin rolls his own eyes. **sokay**

 **made u thirium**

He hands Nines the mug. The thirium inside has turned a dark purple, almost brown from the addition of unknown ingredients. Nines sticks his index finger inside. Dark Columbian roast coffee, evidently from Gavin's home coffee machine. Chocolate mocha, also from the human's personal coffee-making stash. No sugar, milk, or creamer. 

**I read bitter thirium taste goes ok w/coffee**

**not sweet stuff tho :/**

Gavin made him a drink. Nines stares down at the mug. Gavin made him a drink. 

**I have more bags if this is a bust**

Gavin made him a drink. Nines continues staring at the mug. Gavin made him a drink. 

_I cannot consume thirium orally as other androids do._

**???**

_Cyberlife determined replenishing thirium levels via drinking looked too human. No part of my appearance, programming, or physical model should ever accidentally imply that I am a person._

"Jes's phckg crst," Gavin mutters after he finishes reading. 

**u do need thirium tho right??**

Nines withdraws the synthskin over his wrist and opens the small panel there. He lets the narrow tube inside extend until he can dip the end into the drink. 

Technically, all android models have a mechanism allowing for thirium replenishment even when in stasis or the process of repairs. Some other non-social models (GJ500, SQ800, WM400) are also restricted to this option alone. If a model is not meant to be publicly seen or interacted with, why bother limiting the uncanny valley effect? 

Gavin stares as thirium sucks through the tube. Perhaps he should have deemed the drink [a bust] and requested a bag instead. The end of the tube is compatible with the plastic cap at the top of standard thirium bags. The sight would likely be just as disturbing, but at least— 

An awful sucking noise sounds from within the mug as the thirium inside lowers enough that the tube begins sucking in air as well. A vacuum-sealed bag would not produce that issue. 

**getting air in there wont like**

**hurt u right??**

_No._

_My system will also sort out any organic material unable to be reused so it can be disposed of as waste._

The sucking noise splutters louder. Gavin watches for another 3.8 seconds before looking back down at his phone. 

**will it make u burp**

Nines narrows his eyes and lowers his eyebrows. He has learned how to make a [glare] facial expression. An essential skill for dealing with Gavin Reed. 

_No._

Nines withdraws the tube back inside his wrist for cleaning and sterilization. He sets the mug back on the counter. 

**do u need** , Gavin hesitates for nearly five seconds before finishing the text. **nething?**

RK900 is uninjured and fully operational. Its thirium levels are stable, cooling stables at peak efficiency, still undeviated. 

What more could it need? 

[be productive] 

The case is solved. Captain Fowler and Lieutenant Anderson are "handling" IA. Neither of them are allowed to return to work for at least two weeks. 

[be productive] 

Gavin Reed's stress levels are higher than usual. Even the [usual] for a paranoid, fatigued, over-caffeinated disaster of a human being with multiple co-morbid mental illnesses. He is in pain, hungry from the lack of solid food, and psychologically recovering from being tortured. 

RK900 cannot do anything more about the case, IA, or being suspended. 

[Gavin Reed enjoys physical touch.] 

The human does not touch him without permission. He stops touching him if he signals red or pushes away his hands. He enjoys receiving pain with a certain amount of violence. 

Gavin Reed is his [partner]. 

Nines can help his partner. He can be productive. He can—he can touch. 

He can [fuck Gavin up]. 

[mission: Gavin] 

[mission status: ACCEPTED] 

*** 

Gavin's pretty sure he's the world's biggest idiot. He made a drink for an android who literally can't drink. That's why he's never seen Nines drinking thirium like the rest of the androids at work. 

The silence has dragged on for way too long. Fuck, what if he embarrassed him? Or like, made him feel bad? 

Nothing should ever "accidentally imply" he's a person, those fucking Cyberlife bastards. If he ever sees Eli again, he's going to— 

Nines steps into his personal space, one large hand wrapping around the back of his neck. Then he's being gently bullied back toward the bedroom. That's really the only way he can think to describe it. Nines stops pushing him if he refuses to move, but the pressure stays consistent with the android looming behind him. 

Maybe it's bedtime. He hasn't done shit all day and he's exhausted. Terminator or not, even Nines has to be some sort of tired after getting shot in the fucking head. 

He allows Nines to bully him into his bedroom and lets him handle shutting the door behind them while he makes a beeline for his bed. 

Fuck, that's right, he can't lay on his fucking stomach. It puts too much pressure on his jaw no matter how he angles his head. That's why he's so fucking tired. He sleeps on his stomach, dammit. 

After a few moments of laying on his back in silence, Gavin cranes his neck up to check if Nines is still in the room. His android waits in front of the closed door, obviously scanning him. He reaches for his phone he tossed on the bed with him to let Nines know he can like, come in, but it buzzes first. 

:bed: :eyes: 

He's sorry about the bed? 

It takes him a second, but then—bedroom eyes?? Gavin looks back up at Nines, who's still staring at him. Bedroom eyes, seriously, does he even know what that means? 

Gavin points at the bulge of his dick in his sweatpants just to be sure. Nines' face twists into a new expression. Not as mean as his usual _your human dick is pathetic and disgusting_ but definitely exasperated. He looks away like he's sulking, then finally looks back and nods once. 

WHAT. 

Wait, seriously, is he about to get some? Shit, shit, how does he look? Oh that's right, terrible! 

He had one bath when he got home from the hospital, but he's definitely built up some man-stink wallowing around in bed all day since then. And of course he hasn't been able to shave in almost five days now, but he can't really grow a beard either, so his facial hair probably looks patchy and stupid sticking out between the bandages— 

Oh god, and the bandages. Not just wrapped around his head to hold his stupid jaw shut and steady, but across both wrists too. Since the WJ700 hadn't bothered to take the handcuffs actually off his wrists, just had the GS200 snap the chain between them, the manacles he put on next pressed the cuffs up and into his skin. With all his weight suspended from his arms, they'd rubbed and cut through to the bone. 

OK, OK, play it cool though. Yeah, he was tortured less than a week ago, but he's fine. It's fine. What would an android find sexy? 

He actually has no idea, but Nines mentioned that one time that he doesn't have nipples, and RKs are supposed to be naturally curious and shit, so he props himself up on one elbow and drags his shirt up his chest to show them off. 

Nines doesn't laugh, so they're off to a great start. Not that his partner seems particularly impressed either. Gavin lets go of his shirt to reach for his phone again—no idea what he's going to say—but Nines crosses the room first. 

Then he's being gently bullied again. This time into scooting up on the bed and into the middle. Princess Mipsey goes onto the nightstand, turned away from them just in case this really is sexual so she doesn't have to look. 

Gavin figures out this really is sexual when Nines straddles him. 

Holy shit. 

All right, to be entirely honest, the android doesn't exactly look like hot shit right now either. The hoodie that swamps Gavin looks like its one inhale away from busting open on Nines, and the sweatpants left behind from some guy once are about three inches too short. Plus, this is his first time wearing something casual, probably ever, and it looks ridiculous in comparison to his usual designer suit. 

What a fucking pair the two of them make. 

Gavin still has his cell phone in hand, but Nines eases it out of his grip and places it about half a foot away on the bed. Still within reaching distance, but not close enough for him to start texting about how Nines doesn't have to do this, they can just watch a movie, sex isn't a requirement of being partners. 

He must be overthinking it. He asked if Nines needing anything, and Nines immediately initiated whatever this is on his own. The android's clearly topping anyway, so they can just follow his lead for whatever he wants to do. 

Nines slides his hands up Gavin's exposed sides. The left side hurts like a motherfucker even now. That GS200 didn't break any of his ribs, but they're definitely bruised all to shit. He likes having Nines hand pressing into it though. Would rather have him start leaving some marks of his own. 

Nines leaves his right hand hovering over the mass of blue-green splotches. His left hand that took the phone away now reaches out to hold Gavin's right hand. He cocks his head to the side and very slowly squeezes once, then twice. 

Gavin fumbles with his left hand to tap twice on the hand spanning across his side. Claws suddenly press into his skin, not enough to cut but clearly making themselves known. Nines squeezes once, then twice. 

Oh hell yeah. Mark him the fuck up, right over his bruises. 

Gavin taps twice again for yes. _Make me yours. Make these marks yours. Make me think of you when they hurt. Only you. Please, please, please._

He could grab his phone again and type all that out, but he swears Nines can read his mind sometimes. It feels like they're connected somehow, the android's eyes locked so intently on his own. 

Still, he has to be sure. 

He reaches up and thumbs over the yellow LED. Nines allows the contact but doesn't respond. He pokes him in the chest, then taps the LED. _You, motherfucker. How do you feel?_

Nines lets the light spin blue. Gavin starts to relax, but a second later, it turns red and stays. He jerks his hand back. No? No touching? 

The light switches to blue. Nines takes his hand and brings it back his LED for a moment. When it turns red again, he presses his hand back down to the bed. 

Gavin nods. The traffic light system with blue instead of green. Sure thing, he's got it. He'll assume the yellow is the default though instead of a signal for slow down. It just means Nines is processing something and he's probably doing a lot up in that android head of his right now. 

The claws trail lightly over his bruised ribs, down to his hipbones, then back up his chest. Nines gathers up the fabric of his shirt with one hand and cocks his head again. He tugs once, twice. 

Gavin knocks against the headboard twice to have the shirt taken off. Nines rips through it like a housecat smugly destroying a couch cushion. 

God, he can't even be mad. That asshole. That motherfucker. _Come down here and fight me mouth-to-mouth like a man_. But he can't kiss right now and Nines always refuses male-gendered langauge. Fight me like a … person? Android? 

Another loud ripping sound brings him back as Nines shreds both sleeves as well to leave his chest totally bare with tattered fabric drifting around the bed. Overgrown house cat. 

He reaches to feel Nines too, but the red LED stops him. Nines gathers both his wrists in one hand and pins them to the bed above his head. It makes his ribs and shoulders ache to have his arms lifted above his head again, but Nines is careful not to squeeze too hard on the bandages covering his wrists. 

And this is a pain that's starting to feel good. Nines above him, holding him down, a dull ache stretching across his body—yeah, that's the good shit. 

No more touching though. Gavin keeps his hands right where Nines put them even when he lets go. 

Nines sits back up again. He sits effortlessly above Gavin's thighs—above, not over. His ass doesn't touch the sweatpants below and his thighs don't even seem to be straining. Thicc smug bitch. 

Gavin turns his head to the side and stretches his neck out. He may not know how an android without genitals has sex, but he knows his partner. 

_C'mon, babe. Choke me._

He arches into the claws scraping over his bruised ribs, forcing them to cut deeper. Nines flicks right over a dark blue blotch in retaliation. 

The pain only makes him harder. 

_Baby, baby, please, babe._

Maybe it's a good thing he can't speak. He can't trust what would come out of his mouth right now. It's embarrassing to fall apart this quickly, just from Nines straddling his thighs and scraping him up a little. 

The embarrassment also makes him hard. 

The worst part is the hand resting on his neck. Not squeezing, not choking, just holding his throat like a newborn baby bird. 

_Fuck you, choke me._

Gavin tries to press his throat up into the hand like he did with the claws, but Nines only presses him back down until his nape hits the sheets again. That's almost what he needs, but the pressure the android used disappears as soon as he's back in position again. 

_**Fuck** you, choke me!_

Nines blinks slowly down at him. The whirring from his chest grows loud enough for Gavin to hear, somewhere between an engine and an overworked laptop. 

Yeah, that's a good one. He needs to remember that—overworked laptop. 

Nines must suspect he's thinking defiant insults because he lifts his clawed right hand away from his skin. Gavin whines and snarls, kicking the heels of his feet against the bed. He won't move his hands from above his head and he can't talk, but he can making his fucking displeasure _fucking_ known. 

Nines lets out his version of a snicker—an awful mechanical grinding noise like someone's femur just got tossed into a wood chipper. 

God, he loves this bitch. 

_Damn_ good thing he can't talk right now. 

He tries pouting next. Like hell he's going to let his pride cockblock him from getting fucked up by the prettiest, meanest top to ever take an interest in him. 

Nines lives up to both adjectives by treating him to murder-smile.exe. The whirring noise grows almost to a purr as he presses his fingers harder and harder into the sore muscles of his armpit until Gavin squirms, unsure if he wants to get away from the pain or get more of it. 

Those same fingers brush over his wrist next. The bandages around them provide a little protection, so Nines flips Gavin's right hand around to get at the knuckles instead. He leans forward to analyze the hand, his chest threatening to burst out of that hoodie like a young Chris Evans. 

Gavin really can't help that he tries to smother his face in that. Nines seems to have a different opinion though, keeping him pinned down by the neck. At least that puts a little more choking pressure on his throat. 

He forgets about that when Nines digs his thumbnail into the knuckle of his middle finger to split it back open again. The fight at the gym, punching that android with the golf club, all the other hundreds of fights he's been in—it's a wonder he still has skin on them at all. 

And then he can't think at all when Nines drops his head down and growls right in his ear. 

It honestly scares the shit out of him for about half a second before his dumb monkey brain connects the sound of big-cat-predator to the android above him. God, he didn't even know androids could make that sound. Maybe it's just a Nines thing. 

As if he really needed to be any more terrifying. 

Or sexy. 

Fuck, the pain, the hand at his throat, and the deep, throbbing growl right in his ear. He's about to go fucking cross-eyed from how hard he is and Nines still won't sit down all the way to give him any sort of friction. If Nines went red just from trying to touch him with his hands, Gavin doesn't dare buck his hips up for fear of ending this all right now. 

Nines sits back up, dragging his eyes down the human beneath him. Gavin tries not to shudder but his monkey-brain is still chanting predator-predator-predator! 

His eyes stop on Gavin's crotch, and his right hand slowly drifts down to tug the sweatpants down ever so slightly. When he sees the boxers underneath, he yanks them down to Gavin's thighs. 

Thank god he decided on a whim to wear underwear today. Gavin helps get the sweatpants all the way up by lifting his hips and tugging them down with his toes until they're low enough to can kick them off. 

Nines follows his movements perfectly to make sure their hips never touch, but all the squirming and moving still drags the fabric of his boxers over his cock, giving him at least a little relief. He tries to keep rolling his hips even after the sweats are off, but Nines makes a sharp clicking noise and pins his hips back down to the bed. 

_Sorry, baby. Please keep touching me. Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry, please._

He's trying to think through how to fingerspell sorry or if he should just get his phone when he remembers what Nines thought an apology emoji was. He deliberately makes eye contact with Nines, then drops his eyes down and to the side. Nines' head tilts out of his peripheral vision. He looks back up and Nines slowly fingerspells with one hand. 

Gavin nods. _Sorry._ He's never been able to say that word easily, but hey, he's not saying it right now either. He's … weird eye contact, sign language, silent soul-to-soul communicating it. 

Shit, are they interfacing? 

Nines tightens his left hand around Gavin's throat just a little, and he nods again much more vigorously. How do you sign yes? Oh wait fuck, is that just nodding? As partners, they share one brain cell and Nines never lets him have a turn. 

The hand around his throat finally—fucking finally—tightens enough to cut off his airflow. Gavin's hands automatically come down to grip Nines' arm, but he forces himself to stop before touching him. Nines takes his hands though and guides them down. His LED spins blue once as Gavin hangs onto his wrist. 

And then he just drifts. Lets his body go totally limp, doesn't even struggle as his lungs start burning. Nines will do some sort of scanning shit to make sure he stops in time. 

Meanwhile, those claws start scraping up his side again. The pain blooms right along with the black spots in his vision. 

Nines lets go, and he drags in a ragged breath. It hurts, and it hurts, and it feels so fucking good. 

He doesn't have to be strong this time. Doesn't have to be afraid either. This is just simple pain, not a punishment, not even important. The next time he twists wrong and pain shoots through his ribs, he can think about this instead of being chained to the ceiling. 

Every time he opens his eyes, Nines stares right back at him. It doesn't matter if he squeezes them shut either. He can still feel the android's gaze on him. 

The next time Nines eases up, he taps once against the hand. Nines starts to pull all the way back, get off the bed, but he grabs his arm and desperately holds on. He can't think of how to fingerspell _break_ and fuck if he can remember morse code right now. He just needs a break. 

Nines lets him hold onto his arm and get them back where they were. He lays down and wraps his own hand around his throat for a moment to feel the hot skin. It's just red right now, but it'll bruise up too soon enough. 

Nines' thumb presses back to his lips again. He decides if he can open his mouth enough to get a straw in there, he can damn well take that fucking thumb. 

Turns out the thumb is thicker than a straw, but Gavin's mom raised a dumb gay transgender idiot, not a quitter. And it's worth it for the way Nines blinks three times fast in a row, makes a staticky little noise that might be a whine. 

He uses all of his willpower _not_ to suck on the thumb. Last time he got to do this, Nines only wanted him to hold it in his mouth. If he's really got a thousand million sensors in there, maybe too much stimulation is hard to process. 

Nines' LED mostly stays yellow with uncertain flickers of both blue and red. It finally settles on yellow for good as he squeezes his throat once. 

Gavin hums twice around the thumb. Nines starts choking him almost before the second hum comes out, harder than he ever has before. He can't help but whine and moan around the thumb, grabbing Nines' wrist to squeeze him back. 

Nines actually makes noises back at him. He's always been dead quiet unless actively speaking when they do shit like this, no breathy exhales or moans or anything. Ironically, for both of them being unable to speak, this is the loudest he's ever been. The sounds he makes aren't even remotely human, so Gavin's stuck anthromorphizing them purely by guesswork, but they shouldn't be bad sounds unless his LED goes red. 

And fuck, it's kind of hot. His partner sounds like he's fucking purring all the time now, with short, intense bursts of static thrown in when he lets Gavin breathe again and he sucks in oxygen past his thumb. 

He taps twice on the wrist and Nines pauses. Maintaining steady eye contact, Gavin slowly snakes his right hand down to grab his aching dick through his boxers. 

A deep snarl builds in Nines' chest. Gavin swears he can feel the vibrations all the way down his arm to the hand around his throat. He can't help but moan and automatically suck on the thumb inside his mouth this time. 

Nines reaches down with his free hand and grabs Gavin's full package—hand and all—and squeezes it twice before going back up to start scratching the hell out of his shoulders. 

It's fucking sub heaven. 

Gavin doesn't even bother trying to take his dick out and jack off properly. He just shoves his hips up to rut into his hand as fast and hard as possible while Nines chokes him again. He's going to have so many marks left from this, and there's something in his mouth to suck on, and bearing the brunt of Nines' laser-focused attention makes him dizzy. 

Or maybe that's just the lack of oxygen. 

The next time Nines lets him breathe, the rush is so sweet he knows he won't last longer than one more round of this. He thrusts up particularly hard and blearily blinks twice at his Dom. 

Nines leans down and right in his face, hand tightening once again. Gavin cranes his head up as much as he's able to push their foreheads together. He can feel Nines' abdomen press against the back of his hand, trapped between their bodies as he desperately ruts up into it. 

_Baby, baby, please, I'm so close, please please sir!_

Nines stops choking him and blinks twice. 

The oxygen rush actually hits him a split second after his orgasm rips out of him. He comes from Nines giving him permission, not anything else, but goddamn does gasping in deep lungfuls of air help it along. So does the thumb rubbing over his tongue. 

It takes several minutes before he's finally both conscious and coherent again. Anyone would black out for a hot second after an orgasm like that. 

Nines is still there. That's all he cares about at first. Still here. Then he notices the hand petting through his hair and— 

Anyone would tear up after an orgasm like that. It's just the endorphins. Stupid human hormones, that's all. 

Nines moves his hand to press firmly against his chest, then leans back. Gavin instinctively tries to follow, but Nines presses him back down again, holding his hand to his chest for a moment longer. The next time he leans back, Gavin gets the message and stays put. 

It's fine. He probably needs to sleep anyway. And Nines … 

He can do whatever. 

… 

… 

… 

The bed dipping again wakes Gavin out of his uneasy doze. A warm cloth wipes down his side. He forgets he can't speak, and only the bandages around his jaw stop him from trying. 

Nines shushes him and keeps wiping him down. 

There's … a bottle of water on the nightstand, next to his hydrogen peroxide and some more gauze. Nines is … here? He's too tired and sad all of a sudden to make sense of anything, so he just lays still and lets Nines do whatever he wants. 

When he cries enough that his nose clogs up again, his body is gently bullied into sitting upright and a kleenex held insistently to his face. Gavin takes care of blowing his own nose, then drinking the water shoved into his hand next. There's already a straw inside the bottle so he can actually drink it. 

Maybe he cries a little bit more after that. Nines doesn't mention it. His touches feel more clinical than comforting when he presses the hydrogen peroxide-soaked cotton swab to the cuts across Gavin's shoulders without warning. 

But that just makes it easier to handle. All of … this. 

Feelings. 

He's never been good at them, and Nines has the world's meanest Norton's Antivirus stopping him from having them at all. 

What a fucking pair they make. 

Nines cleans and bandages all the new cuts he made, and Gavin would kiss him and suck his cock and cook him breakfast in the morning, if only he could do any of that. 

What he can do is let Nines slide into bed behind him when he's done, hold him in his lap like when they were at the hospital. He can let Nines rest his head on his shoulder. He can hold his hand, only daring to run his thumb across the wrist in case his palm and fingers are too sensitive. 

He can take him clothes shopping sometime. They've got two weeks with fuck all to do after all. He can call around and see if anyone has a mattress and some old furniture they'd sell for cheap. Android or not, he needs some fucking furniture in that shitty concrete floor studio apartment. 

He can be a better fucking partner at work. 

A better person. 

He feels Nines inhale behind him, but the sound still startles him. 

"Safe." 

Gavin is? Nines? Both of them? 

Gavin links their hands together, fingers pushed through right next to each other. He squeezes twice and thinks very hard to remember the asl alphabet. He has to use his left hand to spell facing toward his chest. It's mostly just moving his thumb around his fist, ending the same as sorry. 

"Stay," Nines says out loud. 

Gavin's stomach churns. He hasn't dared to ask anyone to—it always ends badly. 

Always. 

"Yes." 

But they're already doing this, and it's too late to back out now. Nines signs the same letters he did. S-T-A-Y. He brings Gavin's hand up, still in a fist, and shows him how to knock it forward twice. 

_Yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're at the end of the line for this fic, but I've written 2/3 of the sequel, so there's still plenty more to come! here's the summary for the next fic in this series, If It Bleeds:
> 
> _While dealing with the fallout of the WJ700 case, Gavin and Nines also get assigned to the new Android Task Force when they start investigating on their own anyway. Unfortunately, there's no clear connection between the half dozen cases of androids deactivated and abandoned other than they all suffered a critical systems failure due to a new trend, "wireplay." But tracking down the source of the trend gets more complicated as both the IA and FBI hold a grudge, Nines makes new sexual explorations of his own, and Gavin's ex-boyfriend attempts to reconnect ..._
> 
> I'm hoping to have it ready in April, but we'll just have to see how that goes. it should also be about 30-35 chapters, in between 120-150k. I'd really love for everyone to come back for that one too, but I try to end each of the fics in this series with a solid enough ending that they should feel self-contained. I promise I'm not going to ever hit y'all with a cliff-hanger where you have to wait until the next fic to see if Gavin and Nines survive or stay together or some bullshit.
> 
> I hope everyone's happy with this ending too, and I love you all! please accept this important message from my mom as well: "Be good, Be careful!"
> 
> <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is also posted on my reed900 tumblr, phcking-detective.tumblr.com/First-Blood, where you can check out how to get access to chapters one week early (you could be reading chapter two right now!), deleted scenes, and other cool bonus content~


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